


Chestnut And Onyx

by MilkTeaMiku



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-01-17 17:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 103,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12370641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, Keith looked a little flushed. He crossed his arms over his chest, wings all puffed up and ruffled like he was preening. “I didn’t know you were that flexible,” he said. And then he looked angry, and his wings puffed up even more, and he stormed away.-Lance thinks his wings aren't all that pretty, but Keith has other ideas. If only Lance knew.





	1. One

Lance’s wings were dreadfully plain. His feathers were chestnut coloured, like his hair, mottled with different natural shades that darkened towards the tip and only seemed to glow in the sun because he took meticulous, obsessive care of them. The feathers were thin and sleek, much like the wings themselves: their span was proportionate to his body and their only true redeeming quality was their unusual flexibility. As far as wings went, they were ordinary. Nothing special. Nothing beautiful.

Keith’s wings were unimaginably gorgeous. Their feathers were deep black, glossy like polished chips of pure onyx. They sat along his wing bones thickly and evenly, lined up like neat soldiers aching to take off from the ground and fly far away. His wing span was impressive, large, and strong. He had wings built for power-flying, for displays of strength and might. His wings curved around him like a black cloak, never jittery or unrested. They were special. They were beautiful.

And Lance was stupidly jealous.

He knew that deep down his wings weren’t so bad. They were like his mother’s, light and sparrow-like, and her wings had been beautiful enough to enamour his father, a good man with handsome brown wings of his own. It wasn’t like his feathers were ugly or his wings were too short or thin-boned to fly with. But they were ordinary, and sometimes that felt worse.

It was harder to remember that he could have been dealt a worse hand when he was stuck in space with only four other avians present. Without a motley of wings to remind him that his weren’t all that bad, he found himself unable to stop comparing his wings with his fellow Paladins’. His were the plainest of the bunch, and while it shouldn’t bother him, knowing that his wings were now the least impressive kept him up at night. It seemed shallow and selfish but he couldn’t get rid of those thoughts, no matter how hard he tried to.

If Lance really had to choose, and be honest about it, then the person with the most beautiful wings was Keith. Shiro, however, was a close second. His wings were wide and thick, corded with muscle that came from his intense training. His feathers were a faded black, shot through with streaks of natural grey that almost made them wink like dragonfly wings in the sun. Like his hair, however, there was an unnatural streak of white feathers in his right wing. Even when the blighted feathers fell out, they regrew colourless. And although his feathers didn’t always sit straight, his wings were still expansive and beautiful. It was startlingly easy to be envious of Shiro.

There was great reason to be envious of Hunk, too. The only person who had wings that could rival the size of Shiro’s was Hunk, whose wings were wide and ridiculously fluffy. His feathers were a darker brown than Lance’s all over, like luxury chocolate. No one had warmer or softer wings than Hunk. He couldn’t fly any faster than average with them, but the strength in his wings had been pretty much unrivalled back at the Garrison, though he didn’t often show off like others would have. When they’d become closer, Hunk would drape a wing around Lance to make him feel safe when he was upset. He still did that when he caught Lance alone and homesick, though there was less time for such comforts now that they were a part of Voltron.

Pidge’s wings were quite comforting too, when Pidge felt like offering them. They were the smallest wings of the Paladins, but they were fast and agile, constantly shifting as Pidge’s mind filtered through thought after thought. Their feathers were a light amber brown, a shade or two brighter than their hair. The feathers were short and wide, and in some places still downy, especially along the wing bone. There was always a soft scent to Pidge’s wings, something fresh and clean, like washed sheets or the air after a storm. Pidge wasn’t a very touchy person, but sometimes they would wordlessly put a wing around Lance, or let Lance coddle them in his own until he felt better.

It was interesting to learn everyone’s little quirks when it came to flying. Shiro helped Coran and Allura adjust their training schedule to include exercises for the wings, to maintain the muscles needed to fly. 

For the most part, it was pretty simple. They used the large training deck to its fullest extent and height. The Altean’s programmed little flying droids – like the old one Pidge had, Rover – to fly around at speeds that made them difficult to catch. They had to fly after it, across the room and back, before the robot timed out and buzzed. It reminded Lance of the multistage fitness tests they were forced to do back at the Garrison.

Another thing the little robots were programmed to do was test their agility. They’d fire beams of light that made Lance’s wings tingle if he got hit. The idea of the exercise was to avoid the shots, which led to a lot of strenuous flying. It got easier after a few rounds, but Allura loved to up the difficulty level, which always kept everyone on their toes. Or on their wings.

It was during those training exercises that Lance’s sort-of obsession with everyone’s wings began. It was easy to categorise everyone’s strengths and weaknesses when he was watching so intently. He could see the slowness in Hunk’s wing-beats but the strength that every downward motion produced. He could see the power in Shiro’s wide wing span but how his right shoulder sometimes led to his right wing struggling to keep up with the left. He could see the way Pidge’s wings could beat fast and evenly, but how they weren’t the most flexible when it came to sharp manoeuvres. 

And it was easy to see how well Keith knew his own wings. He was fast and strong and worked through the difficulty levels quicker than any of them. Even if he was rash in some of the decisions he made and he tended to overexert himself when he didn’t have to, there was something mesmerizing about watching him fly. His feathers looked beautiful in motion.

It sort of made Lance nervous to do the exercises himself. He’d done alright in the multistage tests. He wasn’t as fast as Shiro or Keith but he did well. 

The little robot was a zippy thing. Lance’s had felt the sting of its bullets before, even if they did no harm. It was like pins-and-needles, but a little more uncomfortable. His feathers always ended up ruffled afterwards, and he’d have to spent hours smoothing them down again. 

He was painfully aware of eyes on him as he spread his wings and gave them a cautious flap. When they were adequately stretched, he lifted off the ground. Adjusting to the weight of his Paladin armour had taken some time – the armour conformed to the wearer, so there were protective panels over his wing bones. He’d adjusted to them now, but it still felt weird.

“Ready, Lance?” Allura asked over the speakers.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Princess,” he said, forcing a grin. 

He didn’t like training. He hadn’t liked it back in the Garrison and he didn’t like it now. It was important, sure, and he’d do it when he was told to, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Training with his wings was no different. 

Dodging the robot’s bullets became more difficult the more time he spent in the air. It was easy, at first, like always. Gentle swoops, ascending and descending, all basic stuff. The more tenacious the robot became, the quicker he had to fly, and the harder it became to stay clear of the bullets. He yelped as one of the bullets came a little too close for comfort to his wing.

“Stay focused, Lance!” Shiro instructed. 

He gritted his teeth and complied. He had to last longer than this to beat his previous score, but the distance between him and the robot had diminished. He dove out of the way to try and increase that distance. If the training deck had been bigger it would have been easier, but that wasn’t the case. Instead he had to try and navigate away from the walls and high ceiling while the robot continued to chase him. 

As he soared towards the wall, he pushed both his wings open, abruptly bringing himself to a halt. He was infinitely glad that he’d taken gymnastics as a kid because it let him toss himself backwards without getting dizzy. The robot whizzed straight under him, shooting bullets at the wall and leaving singe marks.

Lance backpedalled for several seconds, panting. He let himself sink several feet and flew across the room, groaning when the robot only took a half-second to right itself. When another bullet whizzed too close to his fingers, making his outermost feathers tingle, he couldn’t help but panic a little. He beat his wings frantically, lifting him up too high too fast, until his back hit the ceiling. 

“Watch out!” Shiro shouted.

Shame flittered through him, but he had no time to dwell on it as a bullet singed the wall beside his shoulder. He tucked his wings in and freefell for a few seconds before spreading them wide, slowing his descent. He was tiring quickly. How long had it been?

“Lance, focus!” Shiro reminded him.

Lance jerked his head up, eyes searching for the robot. It was coming straight for him, and with a yelp he bent backwards, wings flattening into a horizontal line. His back ached at the sudden motion and his head was spinning. When he was younger and being taught to fly, he was taught that it was best not to let his spine bend too far. It changed his centre of gravity, and without a hard surface to balance against, it meant his wings had to strain to carry the majority of his weight through a movement they weren’t exactly built for. Things like backbends or anything even vaguely like a bendy yoga pose should be avoided, and in that moment, he wished he hadn’t been so flexible.

Righting himself took a second too long, and it made him feel vaguely light-headed. He was barely able to dodge the next bullet, but it left him too close to the ground, so he had to land.

“Okay, I’m done,” he said, panting, as he hunched over his knees. “Should have stretched more.”

Shiro was frowning, but he didn’t complain. “Are you alright? That last bend looked a little painful.”

“It’s fine, just a bit sudden,” Lance said. “I’m flexible.”

“I’ll say,” Hunk said, looking like he’d just winced. “You looked like a bendy straw.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh a little. He fluttered his wings, a little flustered. Unbidden, his eyes drifted to Keith, and he was surprised to see that Keith was watching him. His gaze was incredibly focused and for a moment Lance thought he’d done something very wrong, and yet his stomach still churned with heat. 

That look made Lance feel vulnerable. He tucked his wings in closer and looked away, face red. “Did I at least best my time?” He asked Shiro, feeling kind of small.

Shiro glanced at his stopwatch, then smiled. “You did,” he said. “You could have gone for longer.”

“Yeah, I just got a little flustered,” Lance said, rubbing the back of his neck. At least he hadn’t failed, he supposed. “I’ll do better next time.”

Pidge was up next for the text, so Lance moved to slump against the wall, picking up a water packet as he did. He drained it and sighed, leaning forwards so that he could stretch his wings and try to shake out the tenseness in them. He’d have to groom his feathers later. A little part of him wished he had someone to do it for him. A certain someone, maybe.

A certain someone who was suddenly standing in front of him.

Lance looked up at Keith and raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, Keith looked a little flushed. He crossed his arms over his chest, wings all puffed up and ruffled like he was preening. “I didn’t know you were that flexible,” he said. And then he looked angry, and his wings puffed up even more, and he stormed away.

Lance blinked, feeling a strange mix of embarrassed and flattered and confused. Had Keith been watching him the whole time? He felt oddly exposed. He’d long since come to terms with the fact that he liked Keith, but he hadn’t tried to do anything about it. He didn’t ever expect his feelings to be reciprocated.

But what if they were?

It was a tantalizing thought.

If only that could happen. Maybe it would if his wings were prettier. He sighed, and rested his chin in his hand, his wings falling comfortingly around his shoulders. They weren’t the prettiest, but they were his. 

He kind of hoped that Keith liked them.


	2. Two

When Coran and Allura had started making adjustments to the castle to accommodate the wings of the Paladins, Lance had asked if they could put a big mirror in the bathroom. The showers were communal, with each shower stall fitted into a private little pod along the far wall. It was better than the communal showers at the Garrison, that was for sure. Lance much preferred the ones on the castle, even if he did miss having a private bathroom to pamper himself in like he’d had at home.

Training always made him desperate to groom his wings. Any slight fault in them was magnified by the plain colour of his wings. Something that was boring _and_ dirty was far worse than something that was just boring. He obsessed over every out-of-place feather, every singe mark, every smudge of dirt. 

And it wasn’t just his insecurity over his wings that made him desperately clean them. It wasn’t just because having smooth, glossy wings made him feel more at ease. He did it because he enjoyed it. Lance had never been completely in tune with his body – he started off small and suddenly shot up over a summer or two, leaving him lanky and lean in a way that didn’t feel familiar. Grooming his wings centred him, made him feel like he knew himself and his body. It wasn’t just for looks.

But either way, he didn’t like doing it while others were around. Coran and Allura installed a mirror large enough for them to spread their wings in front of in the bathroom after Lance had explained why it was important. They needed to see their wings to groom them, right? Without anyone to reach the furthest feathers, Lance definitely needed the assistance of a mirror to keep his wings in top shape. As it was the only mirror large enough to accommodate them, it was often crowded, especially after training and when they returned from missions.

For the time being, Lance lingered in the showers, wishing everyone else would leave. He’d heard Keith rinse off and exit first – not because he was listening, or anything. Definitely not. But the others were still around, and he wasn’t going to groom his wings in front of them, no matter how much he itched to. He could only cast envious glances as Hunk helped pull apart the tangles in Pidge’s feathers, and how Shiro fluffed his wings up and let the drying water from his shower settle them back into place.

Sometimes Lance struggled in deciding when a person’s wings were most beautiful: when they were perfectly groomed and preened, or when they were more natural and fluffed up, like his teammates’ wings were then. His just looked bedraggled when he left the shower.

It seemed like hours – but was likely less than half of one – before the bathroom was clear.

“Are you alright in there, buddy?” Hunk had called before he left, when the sound of Lance’s shower running was the only one left. 

“Yeah, just getting clean,” Lance said, in what he hoped was a cheerful voice. “I’ve got to look my best.”

That appeased Hunk, who wasn’t too interested in Lance’s bathing habits. Only when he’d heard the door to the bathroom hiss shut did Lance finally turn off the water. His wings were heavy with water, and when he gave them a tentative shake, droplets splattered against every nearby surface. 

He pulled on underwear and a pair of pants and hurriedly towelled his hair dry. He always ended up making himself flustered when he groomed his wings. A sense of urgency always hurried him along, one that stemmed from a lack of privacy. Anyone could walk back in. He inched in front of the mirror and spread his wings out on either side, feathers puffing up. They were completely ruffled, sticking up in places, out of order. Disarrayed feathers made it difficult and sometimes painful to fly, and they weren’t pretty to look at. He didn’t think so, anyway.

Lance hummed as he twisted a little, regarding his feathers with a critical eye. He ended up seated on the bench in front of the mirror with his left wing curled around him, fingers deep in his feathers. He had to untangle them, carefully smoothing down the kinks and joints until each feather was resting straight. It was going to take ages.

When he was little, his mother and father would groom his wings for him. They’d sit on either side of him, their fingers deftly working through the knots and tangles he’d gotten while playing with his older siblings. He had a ridiculous amount of down when he was a kid, soft and powder-fine, even after his adult feathers came through. If he riffled through his wings to the under most layer where skin and bone met feathers, then he could still find some, adding layers of thickness and warmth.

Sighing, he stretched out his wing, ignoring the fluff that fluttered to the ground. He was going to get cramps soon. When he curled his wing back in, he was pleased with his process. It was a combination of strenuous flying and extended showers that had ruffled his feathers so badly. He sort of wished he had someone to help him, especially for the feathers on the backside of his wing, the one that didn’t face his body. They were harder to reach, so he left them for now, and started on the right wing.

Thankfully, the right side was easier. He pulled feathers straight and combed through the loose ones. It had been a while since he’d plucked out his old feathers. He had to get rid of the oldest ones to make room for newer, healthier ones every now and then, so after a fugitive glance back at the door, he started doing that, too.

It was hard not to dislike the colour of his feathers after he’d stared at them for so long. He wished that the colour was more consistent, like the rich, deep brown of Hunk’s wings. Or maybe something more uniform, like the flashes of silver in Shiro’s feathers. Instead he got blotchy patches of brown, some a light, tawny brown, others as dark as his skin. The more he looked at them, the plainer they became.

Soon he had a pile of feathers on the bench beside him. He adjusted his wings, rolling his shoulders as they started to tense up. He’d only plucked four feathers from each wing, but it was like plucking a particularly stubborn, particularly painful hair. He was still soothing the faint stinging he felt when the doors to the bathroom slid open.

Lance froze, his wings still curled around him.

Keith blinked at him, looking both puzzled and surprised to see Lance still in the bathroom. His wings were out, and the moment he caught sight of Lance, they fluffed up bigger. 

Lance shrunk. Embarrassment nestled in his chest, claws dug deep. He’d come to terms with the fact that he liked Keith more than he would’ve cared to admit, so he didn’t like looking anything less than his best. Or he didn’t like being unprepared, anyway. He could play off being in his pyjamas and wearing a face mask if he’d had time to gather his wits.

But here he felt vulnerable. His fingers were still messy and exposed and he was only wearing pants and he hadn’t dried himself off properly. He couldn’t have looked worse, to put it simply. 

Keith forced his wings back, holding them tense and high. He sort of looked like royalty, feathers dark and sleek. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” he said. “Shiro said you were the last to leave, but…”

“It’s not a private bathroom,” Lance reminded him. It sort of felt like Keith was trying to make up an excuse to come back to the bathroom, but he didn’t need to. It was sort of confusing, actually. Why did Keith look so fidgety? It wasn’t like Lance being there would stop him from doing his business. 

Suspicious behaviour or not, it was easier to talk to Keith when no one else around. Not because he liked Keith, but because he felt less pressured to… perform? To continue joking and teasing like he usually did. It became exhausting sometimes. He liked to think he’d become more comfortable around Keith. They’d connected when Shiro had disappeared in a way they hadn’t been able to before. 

“I thought you already showered,” Lance mentioned, when awkward silence stretched between them.

“I did,” Keith said. He gestured to the towel clutched in his hand. “but I still feel gross.”

He certainly didn’t look gross. Lance had to turn away, and forced his attention back to his feathers. Hiding in them was not an option but it sure felt like one. 

It was impossible not to listen as Keith headed back for the showers. He was barefoot, but his steps were oddly quiet. The rustle of his feathers made Lance feel sleepy.

He tried to focus on grooming his feathers as he listened to the water running. His right wing was easier to tame, and somewhat less ruffled than the left, so he focused on it more extensively. The feathers were smooth on the inside after a few gentle adjustments, and after twisting his wing to lay horizontally – thankful for his flexibility once again – he got the outer layers all smoothed down, too. 

The left side proved to be more problematic. He had to pluck another feather, taking the totally to nine, which led to him letting out a startled yelp when it stung more than he’d expected.

“Lance?” Keith asked, concerned, through the shower doors.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Lance rushed to say, “just being an idiot.”

He set the feather down and anxiously ran his fingers over the stinging spot. His wings had always been sensitive, and he never liked pulling feathers out. He had to flap them a few times to chase the sting away. The last few problematic feathers were in a spot he couldn’t quite reach. They stood up out of place on the outer side of his left wing, just past where he could twist around to touch. No amount of flexibility would help, and he huffed in frustration.

“What’s the matter?” Keith asked.

Lance jumped. He hadn’t heard the shower turn off, nor had he heard Keith wander over. He was wearing loose clothes – dark pants and a shirt fit for sleeping in – and his hair was tousled from his shower. He hadn’t bothered to dry it properly, but he’d shaken out his wings. They looked fluffier than ever. Lance kind of wanted to touch them.

“Just can’t reach, that’s all,” he admitted, as his eyes slid over to his ruffled feathers. He’d rushed to smooth them all out while Keith was in the shower, so he felt a little more presentable.

Keith blinked, slow and warm. He fidgeted for a moment, and then his wings tensed. “Want me to help?”

Lance was surprised by the question. He certainly hadn’t expected it to come from Keith. Helping someone groom was an intimate affair. People who formed a flock, usually a group of close friends or family members, would groom each other. But the Paladins of Voltron hadn’t quite formed a flock yet, so even though Hunk would sometimes ask Lance for help or help him in return, grooming was still an individual event. He’d never even seen Keith groom his own wings.

And yet, he choked out a surprised, “Okay,” and tentatively offered his wing.

Keith looked strangely proud of himself. He stepped closer to Lance, so close that Lance could almost feel the hate radiating off his dark wings. Lance had to look away from Keith, fearing that his feelings would be too obvious. 

Gently, as if he were touching a newborn, Keith began to separate Lance’s tangled feathers. He worked with surprising softness, his fingers deft and careful. When Lance winced at a sudden pull, he paused, and ran his palm across Lance’s wing bone. That had nothing to do with grooming, but Keith didn’t seem to notice.

It was comforting. Lance felt his eyes droop, tension uncoiling from within him. It had been a while since anyone other than himself had touched them. And Keith was being so gentle, his eyes firm and focused. There was a sort of naïve clumsiness in his fingers, one that made Lance think that he’d never groomed anyone before. Why had he offered to help Lance if he didn’t know how?

He didn’t want to think about it too much. It felt too good. 

While the grooming took longer than it would have if Lance just struggled with it himself, he didn’t tell Keith to stop. Soon his left wing was perfect, but Keith didn’t move away. He ran his fingers down the feathers, eyes riveted. Lance let it go on for a while, feeling selfishly pleased. He could have fallen asleep like that. He would have, if he hadn’t been so aware that Keith was right behind him, his big wings curling forwards as if he wanted to cover Lance in them.

It was that thought that snapped him back to himself.

That was too intimate.

“Uh, Keith?”

Keith jerked away. His absence left cold spots on Lance’s wings. “Make sure to do it better next time,” he growled as he stalked away, fluffed up wings and all. 

Lance watched him leave. He felt like he’d been rejected, and winced. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way.

At least his wings were groomed. He flapped them a few times, just to get them to settle, before pulling on his pyjama shirt. His hair was mostly dry, so he ran a brush through it, and checked his appearance in the mirror. He was red-cheeked and it wasn’t from the shower, and his wings looked as plain as ever, but it wasn’t too bad.

He cleaned up his plucked feathers before he left the bathroom for the evening. When he counted them all, he was a little confused to only find eight feathers. He was sure he’d plucked nine, but where could it have gone? It wasn’t like it could fly away on its own.

Unless…

He shook his head. That was a ridiculous thought.


	3. Three

When it really came down to it, having wings in space was inconvenient. Gravity, or the lack thereof, did a lot of the heavy-lifting for them, and without any wind resistance, flying was near impossible. Jet propulsions and streams of energy like the kind that the castle gained from Balmera crystals were required for travel, and considering the whole, oxygen-less expanse of the galaxy, it wasn’t like they could fly anywhere on their own.

Lance missed it.

Flying was just another thing to add to the list in his head, the one that contained everything he missed from Earth. He would have written it down if he’d had a paper and pencil, but alas, “paper and pencils” were also on the ever-growing list. It seemed like with every moment he realised he missed something, the weight of his wings grew heavier. Everything on that list burned itself into his heart, chipping away until he felt shrivelled and wilted inside, dying quicker than the flowers his mother fruitlessly tried to grow in the spring.

She wasn’t much of a gardener.

But he missed her gardens something fierce, brown flowers and all. _They’re meant to be brown,_ she’d grouse, every time they walked past the flower beds into the house, _that’s their colour. Stop laughing or I’ll cook spicy chili for dinner!_ Only his father had ever enjoyed his mother’s spicy chili. It was another thing Lance missed. 

It got to him, sometimes. On the inside, never the outside. He felt like he was wrapped up, like the Paladin armour was a metaphor for his feelings. He felt like the only one that craved the comfort of their home planet, like he was the only one who longingly glanced over his shoulder for it, like he wished he’d done when he first flew Blue into the atmosphere. Everyone else’s eyes were pointed elsewhere: Pidge towards their family, lost amongst the stars; Shiro to a better future, to justice for him and everyone branded by pain the Galra inflicted; Hunk for the safety of those they’d vowed to protect, a vow he felt he had no right to void; and Keith for the Blade of Marmora, for the secrets behind his birth and his knife and his family.

Only Lance had nothing to look to.

Maybe that was why he obsessed over his wings, over everyone’s wings. In a universe full of innumerable species, only the humans – or avians – had wings like them. It was unique to Earth. It was familiar in a way arms or legs or fingers with blunt nails or rounded ears weren’t.

So even if wings were little more than a nuisance in space, he was fixated.

It was kind of stupid, but he liked to fly around the corridors of the castle. Outside of training, it was the only chance he had to lift off the ground, to feel like maybe he’d taken a wrong turn at the Garrison and come across an unfamiliar compound. The corridors of the castle were wide enough for his wings, were tall enough for a decent amount of ascension. 

His secret little flying trips were just that – _secret._ He did them at night, or whatever passed for night in space. Whenever the castle was quiet and he was absolutely sure no one was awake to see him, he’d unfurl his wings and take a trip or two around the entirety of the castle, until he was panting but exhilarated. 

A big part of him had wanted to indulge in his little secret pastime after the last round of wing training, even more so after Keith groomed his wing for him. Having Keith’s bare fingers in his feathers had made him sleepy and dazed, but that feeling faded quickly, leaving him restless and antsy. But he hadn’t gone flying that night. Instead he’d tossed and turned in his bed sheets for hours, torn between wanting to ignore what Keith’s attention had felt like and never wanting to forget it.

There were a few restless nights that passed – about a week or so – before Lance felt comfortable enough straying from his room. He hated missing out on sleep and hoped that stretching his wings for a bit would help him rest easier.

Of course, as his luck would have it, the night he chose to sneak out of his room was the night Keith was up and awake still. Did that boy ever sleep? No rational person could love training as much as Keith seemed to, Lance was sure. It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.

“Uh, Lance? What are you doing?”

He’d almost flown straight into a wall when Keith’s voice came from beneath him. Lance backpedalled and rushed to steady himself, suddenly shaky on his wings. He scrambled to answer. “Flying? What does it look like?”

Keith blinked at him, straightening. He stood in the doorway to the training room, an empty water packet crumpled in his hand. Sweat made his skin look damp. His feathers were ruffled from training, and looked like they were in dire need for grooming. 

“You’re flying around the corridors?” Keith repeated, frowning, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “At night?”

Lance bristled. “Yes,” he said, sharp. 

Keith startled, as if he hadn’t expected Lance to be so short with him. A puzzled furrow dipped his brows. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. He flicked his wings back. “Can I join you?”

The question left Lance confused. He tried to gauge Keith’s expression, but the only conclusion he came to was that Keith had very expressive wings, which he hadn’t ever noticed before. They were flicked back and held careful, still – he was waiting with the kind of stillness that a person developed when they held their breath. “Well, alright.” He hated that he imagined that the look that flashed across Keith’s face was one of relief. “But it’s not a race!”

It became a race.

When it came to speed, Keith probably had a slight upper hand. Lance begrudgingly admitted it to himself as they started a casual circuit around the castle. Keith’s wings matched his on a down-beat, but on the up-beat they were quicker, despite their heavier weight and bigger size. Keith’s back muscles were probably bigger than Lance’s, more developed.

But he didn’t want to think about it.

Not in company, anyway.

Things between them always became a competition. Somewhere in between their casual flying and awkward-but-not-entirely-unpleasant conversation, they’d started edging ahead of one another. Keith had done it first, his wings getting bigger, almost he was shieling Lance from something. For a moment, when Lance’s vision had been eclipsed by Keith’s dark feathers, he’d been reminded of his parents.

Sometimes, when his mother was bent over those cursed flowerbeds, his father appeared behind her and spread his wings wide, bathing her in cool shadows. She’d tilt her head back up at him, hands buried in the mess she’d created, and grin as wide as she could. Lance could see her face vividly – the redness in her cheeks from the heat, the strands of hair sticking to her forehead, the way her big hat would slide off her head to rest against her neck when she’d gaze at her husband.

Keith’s voice broke him out of it. Keith and those stupidly pretty wings. “Lance?”

He’d crushed his longing for home beneath his competitive spirit and inched in front of Keith, indignant. He didn’t need Keith showing off his better wings, whether it was subconscious or not.

That’s how the competition started. It was stupid and they’d done the same thing a dozen times in a dozen different ways, but part of Lance enjoyed it, even if he found Keith frustrating. They’d jostled for wing space in the corridor’s loftier parts and slid around corners so fast they almost smacked into the walls a couple of times. Keith was faster, but Lance was keeping up. It helped that Keith had just finished some crazy training routine, so Lance had more stamina. 

But it was distracting to be so close to Keith’s wings. Every turn brought them closer as they competed for the inner side. Feathers would brush feathers and skin and at a particularly narrow spot Keith’s wing bone had met Lance’s in a tangle of feathers that had them both yelping and struggling to straighten. It hadn’t stopped the race, not by a long shot, but it was enough for Lance’s stomach to tighten. 

He supposed not everything could be fun and games. They barrelled into the control room on their second trip around the castle, though this trip was far more destructive than the first. The door was barely open before they swooped inside. Lance hadn’t expected anyone to be awake, but Keith had, so it just wasn’t his night. He wasn’t all that surprised when he saw Coran and Allura standing by the console. He just wished he’d seen them _sooner._

They were flying too fast, and too close to the ground. Lance flared his wings out, trying to bring himself to an abrupt stop, but his wing bone smacked Keith in the face and in a flurry of dislodged feathers they crashed to the ground, bringing Coran and Allura with them. Lance groaned as someone heavy crushed his right wing against the cold, unforgiving ground. It almost felt harder than concrete.

“What is the meaning of this?” Allura snapped, as she stood, offering Coran a helping hand. The man looked somewhat stunned, and as Lance scrambled to his knees, he worried Coran had hit his head.

“We were just messing around–” Lance started.

“That’s no excuse!” Allura said, exasperated. She had her hands on Coran’s arms, but he waved her away, shaking his head to clear his mind. He looked better after blinking several times.

“It was an accident,” Lance said. He curled his wings in tight around his shoulders, wincing when a dull throb went through his right one. It would definitely be bruised, but nothing had broken.

“It was reckless,” Allura chastised. She glanced at him, but her eyes went wide at the sight of Keith. “You’re bleeding!”

Keith just groaned. He was on one knee, wings down and tense. He had his hands clasped over his nose, blood on his fingers. “You hit me in the face!”

“It was an accident!” Lance repeated. If he could have slunk away like a wounded cat, he would have. His heart was hammering as guilt sank hot and heavy in his stomach. He hunched closer and reached out a hand to Keith, mumbling, “Are you okay?”

“Stop it, Lance,” Keith said, slapping his hand away. He stood and groaned again, wincing. Coran stepped forwards, concerned about the blood, but Keith inched out of his reach. “It’s just a nosebleed, it’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. Lance should have been more careful. He shouldn’t have started the stupid race in the first place. The castle wasn’t built for flying. “I didn’t mean it,” he said. He tried to force out an apology, a simple _I’m sorry, _but the words got stuck. He just sounded pitiful and whiny. This was all his fault.__

__Keith frowned at him. “What?”_ _

__Allura let out a sigh before Lance could try to apologise again, interrupting him. “Enough of this. Coran, could you please clean Keith up?”_ _

__Coran nodded, and ushered Keith from the room, despite Keith’s heated protests. Lance cast a quick glance over him, at the disarrayed state his sleek feathers were in. Would Keith be able to groom them all himself?_ _

__Again, he didn’t want to think about that. He felt guilty about racing Keith, and about enjoying it. Maybe whatever relationship they had wasn’t meant to be like that. All of Lance’s teasing and taunting just seemed to cause people trouble. A Paladin of Voltron should be more considerate of their responsibilities, right?_ _

__Allura offered Lance a hand, and he took it. She put her hands on his arms just like she had with Coran and scrutinised him for a moment before releasing him._ _

__“You’re not hurt?” She asked._ _

__He shook his head._ _

__“Try to be more careful, alright? I know this is not the optimal place for… spreading your wings. Literally,” she said, before giving him a small smile that made him feel infinitely better. “I’ll try to find a solution. But for now, please don’t fly in the corridors.”_ _

__“Okay,” Lance said._ _

__“Goodness, I sound like my father,” Allura said. She was forcing her voice to become lighter, friendlier. Maybe she wasn’t completely used to her new role as the leader, either. “Don’t run in the kitchen. Don’t play with the swords. Don’t fly in the corridors.”_ _

__Lance cracked a small smile. The knot of unease in his stomach was slowly unravelling._ _

__Allura eyed him. “Still… you and Keith seem closer.”_ _

__Lance tensed at the strange look in her eyes, like she was thinking something at him, hoping he could confirm or deny her thoughts. Anyone else might have been able to decode that look, but he certainly didn’t want to. Instead, he wrinkled his nose, and argued, “I just gave him a bloody nose.”_ _

__Allura rolled her eyes._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support on this fic so far! I really appreciate it ❤️


	4. Four

It didn’t escape the notice of the other Paladins that both Lance and Keith had particularly dishevelled wings the next morning. Lance was miserable. He had been too tired to groom his wings properly the night previous and had woken up too late to do it that morning. He’d managed to smooth down the feathers easily in reach, and hidden others by keeping his wings folded tightly to his back, but it was clear that he was a mess.

And he was never a mess.

“Did you get into a fight with your bed or something?” Pidge asked, looking mildly put off as they side-eyed Lance’s wings. 

Lance frowned, uncomfortable. He couldn’t meet Keith’s eyes, or Pidge’s for that matter. He pulled his wings in tighter.

“Enough of that, we have a mission to discuss,” Shiro said, giving Pidge a disapproving look. They were gathered in the control room, standing where Lance had gotten told off last night. This meeting was for a completely different reason, of course, but Lance still felt dejected. He wanted to crawl back into bed and spend hours making his wings look less unpleasant.

Allura stepped up beside Shiro. “We’re heading towards a planet that has asked for our help in repairing their communications centre. It’s not something we could normally spare time to help with, but if we can get the centre running again, then communicating with other Coalition bases will be much simpler.”

Coran stepped forwards to fiddle with the panels, bringing up a huge holographic map of the section of the universe they were in. “This is our current network,” he said, as blue lines appeared to connect different planets and stations throughout the system. A planet in the centre began to glow green. “This is where we’re heading. Their atmosphere amplifies communication signals like nothing else, so if we can get their systems up and running again…”

The green planet flickered blue, and then a dozen new lines appeared. Lance understood little about the hard details of running Voltron, but this he could comprehend. That planet was the key to quicker and more extensive communication lines. 

“Our main goal will be to repair the communication towers, leaving the defence of the planet to the people,” Allura said. She flicked her hand through the holograph, and clearer images of the planet appeared. “I doubt the Galra will appear. They destroyed the towers centuries ago, and since then the terrain on the planet has become a tad more… volatile.”

Shiro frowned. “How so?”

“Their terrain is – oh, what do humans call it? An ‘arctic tundra’,” Allura said, pronouncing the words slow and clear. “Certain areas of the planet are permanently frozen, while others are ravaged by harsh, periodic snow storms. We’ll have to move in during a break in the storms and repair the towers before they start up again.”

“Will there be enough time for that?” Shiro asked, as he observed the collection of images displayed. Several showed pictures of fierce storms of snow that seemed little more than angry smudges of white and grey. Others showed the planet’s surface, where cities made of ice sat nestled in between protective mountain ranges. 

“There should be,” Allura said. “The people have assured me that the storms do seem to follow some sort of pattern, and we have at least a whole day cycle to get the work done.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then we’ll have to wait out the storm on the planet,” Allura said. “But it should not come to that if all goes well. Much of the work that needs completing is technical, which I’ll leave to Pidge and Hunk. Some of the towers need to be repaired physically, from the outside – the Lions have enough strength to be of help. It would be good for the people to feel Voltron’s presence, as well.”

That made sense. With the mission briefed, the Paladins each went off to suit up. Lance was glad for the escape. He’d risked a glance at Keith’s face, and had not only found that Keith was looking at him, but that there was an obvious bruise stretched across his nose. Nothing looked broken and it seemed that Coran had healed whatever damage Lance’s wing had done, but Lance still felt stupidly guilty. 

He suited up, and went through the process of boarding Blue. Being in his Lion made him feel sheltered, and for a moment, he allowed himself to breathe. 

So what if he liked Keith’s wings? That didn’t have to mean anything. It _felt_ like it meant something, but he was going to ignore that feeling even if it killed him.

The Paladins waited in the hangar bay as the castle jumped through a wormhole. Lance sat back in his chair, wings tucked in as comfortably as he could get them. Blue’s connection hummed like a thought through his mind. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him, finding comfort in the familiar cold tinge of her awareness. 

When the castle arrived, Allura ordered them to disembark. The planet was shrouded in expansive patches of grey clouds that were impossible to see through. Lance had never been in a snow storm, but from outside the planet’s atmosphere, the clouds looked like they held a thunder storm. They filled him with a hope that perhaps he’d see something like home, even if he knew it wouldn’t be exactly the same. 

The planet’s surface was blanketed in snow so white it almost looked grey. They banked through the clouds and landed on a flat, icy surface where their maps helpfully guided them. Lance was worried Blue would have no grip against the ground, but she was built for cold and wet environments, and she almost seemed to revel in it.

Allura had flown in with Shiro, so she headed the negotiations with the planet’s people. Everyone gathered before their Lions to stand as a team as they awaited orders. The planet’s people were unlike anything Lance had ever seen. 

They were vaguely humanoid, with very angular faces and willowy limbs. Parts of their bodies were made entirely from ice, but moved exactly as flesh would. Lance tried not to stare, but it was difficult. One had a knee completely made from ice, and another had a hand, and another yet had half their face perfectly sculpted from the sleek substance. It was like the planet had fashioned inhabitants from its own surface.

Lance wasn’t much of a negotiator. He could hold his own and be serious when he had to, but it was easier to let Allura and Shiro handle it. For the most part, he stood to the side, waiting for orders and using his wings to brace himself against the biting chill of the wind.

“Do you think they feel pain in the ice?” Hunk whispered.

“Probably?” Lance guessed.

Shiro shushed them.

The cold was a little uncomfortable. The Paladin armour only extended along his wing bone, leaving his feathers exposed. There was no point in trying to cover them, not when feathers shifted and moved so constantly. The wing bone was the important part, the part that wouldn’t grow back. Still, the entire wing was subject to the cold, and Lance found himself quickly growing uncomfortable.

At some point, Allura came back to give them a quick report. 

“The wind should settle down enough for us to work with the signals and the exterior structures in about an hour or so. Until then, our hosts have arranged a warm room for us inside. You’ll wait in there while I arrange where we can work the most effectively in the time limit we have. Is that alright?”

No one had any problems with that. Any chance to get out of the cold was one Lance would gladly take up. 

“Alright, this way, then.”

The city’s structures were coated in a thick layer of ice, but beneath it were buildings made from stone and metal. If it hadn’t been so icy, the planet would have looked like any other high-tech civilisation they’d come across. The exterior doors hissed open, and almost immediately Lance could feel a flood of warmth against his wings. The leaders from the city led them to a large, round room, where a dip in the floor made what looked like a shallow den. A mountain of patterned pillows and blankets cushioned the floor. 

Allura dropped them off in the room and took Shiro with her to assess the damage they’d been tasked with fixing. Lance watched them leave before flinging himself into the pile of cushions. They were so warm that he couldn’t help but groan, going boneless as the heat chased away the chill on his skin.

“You look comfortable,” Hunk observed, as he took a tentative seat on the edge of the rounded area dug into the floor. 

“It’s so comfortable,” Lance sighed. He spread his wings out, disarrayed feathers and all, to press them against the heated cushions. “So warm.”

Pidge snickered. “You look ridiculous.”

Lance just smiled, and pressed his cheek against a cushion. “Nothing wrong with enjoying a bit of comfort, Pidge.”

“Yeah, yeah. You do that, I’m going to look at their communications systems…” Pidge pulled their laptop out of the satchel they’d carried down in Green and opened it up. They sat beside Hunk, who turned away from Lance to glance at the green. The two were immediately engrossed in whatever they found, making Lance snort. He was good with computers and had a decent amount of knowledge regarding engineering, but compared to Pidge and Hunk he was nothing but a novice.

Lance probably could have fallen asleep there if a quiet voice hadn’t startled him.

“Are you okay?”

Lance frowned at Keith, who was awkwardly folding himself down beside him. Keith couldn’t have looked anymore out of place if he tried. “What?”

Keith glanced at his wings.

“Oh.” Lance shifted a wing in what could only be interrupted as a shrug. He didn’t like Keith looking at them, but refused to tuck them back in. “They’re just messy, it’s fine.”

Keith’s own wings shuffled against his back. He hadn’t made any attempt to groom them, and his feathers were no longer layer flat or straight like they usually were. He didn’t seem particularly uncomfortable, though Lance struggled to read him sometimes. It wasn’t that Keith was closed off, but he’d just been acting strange lately. 

A traitorous little part of him thought maybe Keith had realised Lance’s wings were quite plain. Compared to Shiro’s or Hunk’s or even Pidge’s wings, Lance’s didn’t stand out much. Not in colour or size or shape. The only thing they had going for them was their flexibility, but it wasn’t like that was a particularly noteworthy trait. It only really counted in certain situations.

With a frustrated huff, Lance tucked his wings back in flat against his back. The underside of his feathers had been warmed by the cushions, leaving his back and legs toasty. The lingering heat made him sigh again. Maybe he could ask Coran for pillows like these in the castle. Lance could certainly get used to them.

“Can you groom my wings for me later?” Keith suddenly asked.

Lance glanced up at him, surprised. Keith was fidgeting, his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. “I mean, if you want me to,” Lance said. The words came before he could really think about them, but a chance to touch Keith’s wings all he wanted? Worth the embarrassment. He hoped.

Keith nodded, and fell silent again. His face had that unreadable expression on it once more, the one Lance struggled to read. But Keith seemed to ease into his surrounding a little more. He leaned back on his hands and tilted his chin up, eyes closed. For once, he looked relaxed. Lance observed him for a moment, and tried to figure out what it was about Keith that kept drawing his attention. If it wasn’t their rivalry – which at this point would be unlikely, considering they’d been working together as teammates for a while now – then what was it? His eyes traced the shape of Keith’s angular jaw, of his thin lips and the longer strands of hair that curled around the bottom of his neck. He had a pretty face, Lance realised. Masculine and attractive.

He glanced away just before Keith opened his eyes to look at him, likely feeling his gaze.

It was easy to hide his face in the pillows. His cheeks and ears felt red. Did he like Keith like _that?_ He’d never been the type of person to be subtle about his appreciation for aesthetically pleasing appearances. More often than not, a person always had something about them that he liked. He didn’t care for gender, and he could only see himself dating someone he had an emotional connection to, but as far as looks went it was free game. He’d never considered Keith to be pretty until he really started looking at him. Admiring his wings was easy and came naturally, but the rest of him? Lance had probably starting liking him slowly, without quite realising that his gaze lingered for longer than it should have. 

Keith was handsome. He could admit it. There was nothing _wrong_ with admitting it, he told himself furiously. He thought Shiro was pretty attractive too. And Allura was beautiful. There were things about all his teammates that he liked.

But Keith felt…different. Every part of Lance could sense Keith sitting there, less than a metre away from him, glancing at his wings every now and then. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to preen or hide away.

He settled for neither.

It wasn’t like Keith would ever like him back anyway.

Right?


	5. Five

Considering Blue was one of the bigger Lions, and had the ability to produce solid ice, Lance was sent with Shiro and Keith to do work on the exterior of the communications towers. Allura was in the heart of the tower with Pidge and Hunk, fixing the internal damage and strengthening the core energy source. She directed their movements, and every now and then Pidge or Hunk would chime in too, getting them to adjust large sections of the building or make new connections out of Blue’s ice.

It was sort of like building a detailed sandcastle, Lance thought. Certain areas had to be strengthened, others had to be reinforced with ice. Many parts of the building had been built on the ground in the last few years, and had to be lifted into place by Black and Red while Blue used ice to essentially glue it altogether. 

As Lance guided Blue into place, he couldn’t help but think there was something strange about the ice on the planet. The frigid temperatures and chilling winds were just like what he expected from an arctic tundra, but it was the ice that behaved differently. It almost seemed to grow, like moss or algae. It fixed incredibly easily to itself, like the ice could act as superglue. Even the ice Blue produced fell prey to the ice naturally covering the planet.

They were making decent progress as hours slowly passed. The communications centre seemed to be made of five separate parts – one main centre, and four stationary towers that were connected by bridges of ice. The Paladins couldn’t sculpt the ice like the inhabitants of the planet needed, as Blue wasn’t capable of projecting ice railings or ladders or walkways, but Allura assured him that laying down the foundation work was all that was required of him.

“Alright, the tower is in place,” Shiro said. His voice was projected through the helmets each Paladin wore, and a holographic picture of his face appeared on Blue’s screens. “Lance, you’re up.”

Lance glanced at Shiro’s face and nodded, knowing that Shiro and Keith both had a visual on him, too. He directed Blue upwards, and was surprised by the height of the towers for what felt like the hundredth time that day. They climbed upwards in icy spirals, until what looked vaguely like a spherical solar-panel topped off the tower. Lance’s job was to provide the ice around the actual tower itself, which Black and Red lifted and held into place.

Although the work wasn’t exactly strenuous, it was quite time-consuming, and it required a lot of aggressive attention. Lance couldn’t slip up or else he might not bond the tower to the lower structures properly, which would only set them back. 

He was starting to get tired. He could tell Blue was, too. Using the Lion’s special weapons drained their energy more, and while the Lions were technically energy producing themselves, there was a limit to how much both Paladin and Lion could withstand. 

“How much longer do you think we’ll have to do this?” Lance asked, as he finished attaching the new structure to the tower. He couldn’t help but glance at the other towers. Two had survived without taking much damage over the years, so he’d reinforced them with a thick coating of new ice and left the tech work to Pidge and Hunk. That still left two towers to rebuild, and they’d been at it for hours without completing the first.

“Hopefully not too long,” Shiro said. 

Lance resisted the urge to groan. Instead, he pinched his lips and kept going. His wings were starting to ache from sitting in Blue for so long, and he really wanted to stretch them out and fly for a little while. He needed to work out the stiffness in his muscles, and was becoming impatient.

Allura’s face suddenly appeared on the screen. “We have a bit of a problem, Paladins.”

“What is it?” Shiro asked.

“It seems like there’s been a significant drop in temperature that’s bringing on the next cycle of storms quicker. It could be from Blue’s ice, or from a change in winds further north from here. Perhaps both. Either way, I fear that–”

Allura’s screen abruptly went static, flickering in and out before disappearing altogether. Lance looked at it, surprised. Shiro and Keith were both frowning.

“Uh, guys? Did you just get cut off, too?” Lance asked, as he steadied Blue.

“We did,” Shiro said. He was frowning. “Just say still until–”

Lance let out a shout as Blue was suddenly shocked by a violent blast of wind. Without the cover of the towers he was thrown off course. All of his screens flickered, and then went out. Blue smacked into one of the other towers, cracking the ice Lance had previously laid down. Lance tried to right her, digging her claws into the ground when they careened into it, but the wind was too strong.

Definitely not like Earth. 

A sudden heavy weight dropped against Blue. Lance yelped as he was thrown around in his seat, but the wind was struggling to move him now. One screen jolted back to life.

“Keith!” Lance shouted. It was Red pinning Blue’s body to the ground. “What happened? Where did Shiro go?”

“I don’t know!” Even with the helmet speakers, it was hard to hear Keith over the roaring of the wind. “We can’t stay out here, it’s too–”

Keith’s screen disappeared. Blue’s claws were slipping over the ground, tearing up chunks of ice that the wind whipped away. Even Red’s added weight was doing little to help keep them grounded. It was with a sinking feeling in Lance’s stomach that he realised Red wasn’t anchored properly. His claws were a fraction shorter than Blue’s, and didn’t have the same affinity for ice that Blue’s did. Lance shifted Blue, rearing back to help buffer against the wind, but it did nothing.

The moment Red slipped, Blue did too.

Lance gritted his teeth to stop himself from biting his tongue as Blue was sent airborne again. He tried to right her, but no matter how hard he pushed on the controls, he couldn’t fight the incoming storm. 

What could have only been mere minutes passed before Blue hit another structure. Lance dug her claws in again, and could have shouted with relief when he realised they’d hit the nearby mountain. Sharp ridges and low dips created a topography of hiding places, any number of which could suffice as a place to ride out the storm.

But where was Red?

He spotted Red the moment his mind processed the thought. Red was hurtling towards him, forced along by the wind. His back was to the mountain and if he didn’t prepare to hit it, then Keith could get hurt. 

Lance didn’t even think about it before urging Blue headfirst into the wind. Blue creaked horribly as the metal protested, but he was persistent. Red careened towards them, and Lance pounced, urging Blue against Red’s side. The collision was too hard, and Lance was jerked forwards in his seat, his left wing snapping down hard against the chair. Pain ricocheted up his spine and down his left arm. His grip on the left handle slackened, and Blue tilted. 

But Red was safe. The weight from Blue brought them both plummeting beneath the ridge Lance had hit. Snow puffed up in a huge flurry, obscuring Lance’s view. Without the pressure from the wind, and in the safety of the ridge, he felt tension drain from him. His wing was aching, and he felt like he was going to pass out at any moment, but at least he was alive. He tried to turn on his communication lines, but Blue had completely shut off. 

There would be no flying until the storm eased up.

Lance stood, and stretched his wings out. The right one was tense and cramped, and he couldn’t move the left at all without feeling like the pain was going to bring him to his knees. 

Fortunately, Blue had powered down with her head on the ground, so he didn’t have to climb his way down from her muzzle. He tucked his wings in as tight as he could before disembarking, and almost immediately regretted it. Even behind the ridge the wind was furious, and it was so cold that frost started to creep in between his feathers.

Red’s muzzle opened when he trudged his way over to it, arm lifted to protect his face from the wind. He couldn’t risk letting his helmet freeze over.

On the inside, Red was warm. Keith met him by the entrance and helped pull him up by the arm. When Red’s jaw closed, the wind stopped, and Lance was free to yank off his helmet. Keith did the same.

“Are you hurt?” Lance asked. He puffed his wings out again, trying to shake off the snow. 

“No,” Keith said. His eyes were fixed on Lance’s left wing. “You are, though.”

“Just a bruise,” he said. He could tell that no bones had broken, but it did hurt, and he couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d need to pull more feathers. The frost was going to destroy them if he didn’t warm up soon. “So what do we do now? Blue’s completely shut down, and I can’t reach anyone.”

“The storm is causing too much interference,” Keith said. “We’ll have to wait for it to calm before trying to fly anywhere.”

Lance frowned. He knew the Lions were equipped with emergency supplies – blankets, water, repair kits – but would it really be warm enough? “I’ll have to go get stuff from Blue, then,” he said. “Red is warmer.”

If Keith seemed surprised by the suggestion, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he put his own helmet back on. “You wait here, I’ll do it. Your wings don’t look so good.”

Lance knew Keith was only talking about the state that the frost had left them in, but a part of him couldn’t help but think of the plainness of his wings. Even in their dishevelled state, Keith’s wings were oddly beautiful. He looked rugged. In a good way.

“Right, you do that.” Lance tried not to sound clipped, but he did. He tucked his helmet under his arm and made his way up to Red’s cockpit. “I’ll find Red’s blankets.”

All of the Lions were built similarly, so it wasn’t hard to find what he needed. He spread the blankets out in the wide space behind the pilot’s chair and tried to make himself comfortable in the dull red glow Red produced. It wasn’t anything like the light, cool feeling in Blue.

Keith returned a few minutes later, caked in snow and scowling. He dumped all the blankets and provisions from Blue beside Lance before moving away to shake the frost free from his wings. It hadn’t damaged his feathers like it had Lance’s – his feathers were thicker, and very tightly woven – but he did look uncomfortable. Places where his feathers were sticking up from their little joy flight had allowed snow to sink deeper. It probably didn’t feel very good.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck like this?” Lance asked. Had this happened to them several months prior, he probably would have been bickering with Keith already. As it was, he was sort of glad he wasn’t alone. Keith hadn’t needed to try and save Blue when Blue had first been buffeted by the wind. Lance didn’t know why he’d tried at all, but they were stuck in this together now. 

“Couple of hours?” Keith guessed, unsure. He took a blanket and wiped down his wings before offering it to Lance, who begrudgingly did the same. Sacrificing a blanket to get the ice off them was probably a good idea, but he wished he could have used it for warmth instead. What he would give to have a hair dryer in that situation.

Lance sighed. He passed Keith a water packet and drained one of his own. Without the frost on his wings they felt a little better, but the left was badly bruised. He glanced at Keith’s face, and was relieved to see the bruise on his nose softening. “Sorry about that,” he said. When Keith gave him a puzzled look he tapped his own nose.

“Oh. It’s nothing.”

Lance pursed his lips, but accepted it. Keith didn’t seem too bothered. He leaned back against Keith’s chair and closed his eyes. He could fold his right wing in comfortably, but there was no hope for the left. 

“Let me see,” Keith said.

Lance opened his eyes. Keith shifted closer, and gestured at Lance’s wing. Cautiously, Lance extended it. Keith’s surprisingly nimble fingers found the attachments where the Paladin armour connected to the plates on his wing bone and unclipped them. The feathers underneath were a mess, worse than Lance expected. Some had been completely pressed flat, and others were sticking up in every direction imaginable. It didn’t look good.

“Does it feel broken?” Keith asked.

“No.” Lance shook his head. “Like I said, just bruised.”

Keith put his palms flat against the joint in his wing bone, fingers falling on either side, and carefully prompted Lance to bend his wing. It made him hiss in pain. 

“Maybe sprained,” he conceded.

“I’ll find something to splint it with,” Keith said. “Don’t bend it.”

Lance did as he was told. His face was getting red and it wasn’t from the warmth slowly seeping back into him. “Didn’t know you knew how to fix wings.”

Keith was digging through Red’s provision kit, his back to Lance. He shrugged once. “Got a lot of injuries when I was out on my own.”

Lance wanted to pry more, his curiosity piqued, but he didn’t. That was too personal. 

When Keith found what he’d wanted, he came back over. Lance stretched his wing forwards so that it ran parallel to his stretched out legs, and Keith sat on the outer side of it. For a moment, Keith just looked at his wing, his brow furrowed in deep thought. “Doesn’t it hurt to stretch your wing that way?”

Eyebrows raised, Lance shook his head. “Not really.” He supposed that it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, either. A person’s wings were built to stretch backwards, upwards and downwards from a person’s spine. Forwards was not exactly something everyone could do, but Lance had no problems with it.

Keith shook away his thoughts, and carefully laid a splint on the injured section of Lance’s wing after making sure it could still fold properly. He smoothed the feathers down as best he could with quick fingers before wrapping a bandage around it to secure it. He had to carefully move Lance’s feathers out of the way the entire way down his wing, carefully parting them to slip the bandage through. After he was done, he shifted them back into position. It vaguely felt like when Lance had a sponge between his toes so his sister could paint his nails.

“Thanks,” Lance whispered. The room had become very quiet as Keith gently stroked his feathers flat. It wasn’t grooming. Lance knew that. It didn’t feel like grooming. Keith was satisfying his own curiosity, and his gentle touches felt like… _more._ It made Lance’s head spin in circles.

Eventually Keith pulled away to pack up the provisions kit. “Don’t worry about it.”

The cold his touch left was almost worse than the cold from the storm.

Lance had never felt so lost in his life.


	6. Six

It became cold rapidly, like not even Red's affinity for warmth or the sheer bulk of his body could keep the chilling wind from getting in. Lance tried not to shiver as he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. It wasn't a thin blanket, but the cold made it feel like he had nothing on him. He'd taken the armoured plating off both his wings but was tempted to put it back on just to see if it would ward off the dropping temperature for a bit. 

At least he didn't seem to be the only one suffering. A scowl had made its home in the corner of Keith's lips, his brows furrowed inwards. He had his blanket tossed over his legs, and his wings pulled tightly around his shoulders, the feathers pressed flat against his back. Every now and then he'd shift like he was uncomfortable, and rearrange both his wings, spreading them out behind himself once before tucking them in tighter than before. It seemed to alleviate his discomfort for a short time, but he’d start shifting again in a few minutes, his scowl more displeased than ever.

Lance didn't know what to say to him. The silence between them was sort of awkward, and useless comments were flittering through his mind, but he didn't voice any of them. He couldn't think of anything interesting to say that he hadn't already said. 

If this was how they were going to be stuck, silent and miserable for countless hours, then he'd rather be in Blue alone. 

A ragged sigh left him. He tossed off his blanket and stood, intent on stretching his limbs. He was a fidgety person, and hated sitting still for too long. It made all his joints ache. He didn't even sleep still, instead tossing and turning until he woke up with his sheets tangled around his ankles, or even on the floor. That same restless feeling that always plagued him was seeping into his bones, and without anything to occupy his mind, he was a tangled mess of nerve endings and shivers.

So he paced. There was nothing else to do. It was probably infuriating to watch, but he stalked up and down the length of Red’s cockpit, trying to rub warmth back into his arms. At least they had the Paladin armour on. It was surprisingly sturdy in harsh weather.

“Can’t you sit still?” Keith groused.

Lance’s feathers puffed up in indignation. “No. It’s stupidly cold and there’s nothing to do. Why don’t the Lions come equipped with board games, or something?”

Keith frowned at him. He seemed to frown a lot, now that Lance thought about it. His lips would curve just slightly downwards like it was their default position, like something was always bothering him. Lance had seen Keith smile a handful of times, and it was a good look on him. Such a travesty to waste good smiles on irritable frowns.

But maybe that just meant Lance was annoying.

Suddenly self-conscious, Lance stretched once more, fluffing his wings out before settling back down onto the ground. He felt too-aware of his movements, so he tried to stay still. His spot on the floor had gone cold, and the blanket had too. A shiver rattled down his spine.

“Are you really that cold?” Keith asked.

“Aren’t you?”

Keith hesitated, then shrugged. He tossed his blanket at Lance. “My feathers are thick.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t freeze,” Lance said. He tried to hand the blanket back, but Keith wasn’t having any of it. Lance was flustered and floundering and his actions were making Keith’s seem less noble and all-in-all, it was just a very embarrassing situation. Right out of a romance novel, or some cheesy Christmas movie. 

And well, if he was going to dive head-first into whatever was going on right then, he might as well go all out.

“Just share with me,” Lance spat out, frustrated. “It’ll be easier that way.”

Keith blinked at him. He looked uneasy, and then unsure, and then his face smoothed over. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” Lance repeated. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised that Keith had agreed so quickly or surprised that he had offered the option in the first place. He shifted over to let Keith sink down beside him, holding both the blankets up. Keith’s wings were slowly fluffing up as he sat down. He seemed to be having a problem with keeping them flat now, and Lance wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t question it. 

Trying to sit close enough to share blankets with two pairs of large wings wasn’t an easy task. Lance pulled his wings in tight, thankful that Keith was sitting on his right side and not his injured left. Keith’s wings ended up pushed a little further back than Lance’s, so that when his right wing and Keith’s left overlapped, Lance’s was on top. 

“Do you think they’re worried?” Lance asked, as he busied himself with fixing the blankets. “The others, I mean.”

“Yeah, probably,” Keith said. He sat back and watched Lance work, looking like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He ended up crossing his arms.

“I hope they’re not too worried.”

Keith hummed.

Lance dropped the subject. Again, he was lost for words, mind completely blank. Once the blankets were arranged over their laps and legs, he felt a little better. He was definitely warmer this way.

“Your wings are… flexible,” Keith said, voice slow and hesitant.

Lance raised his brows. “Uh, I guess so.”

Keith’s face flushed. He looked at his hands. “It’s- it’s good. For fights.”

“I mean, yeah? That’s about the only thing they’re good at,” he said. He shuffled his left wing, testing the pain level. It was slowly easing, but was likely sprained. “Can’t do anything if one is busted, though.”

“It’s not busted.” Keith frowned. “And they’re fast, too. Lightweight wings are perfect for agile flying.”

Hearing Keith say “perfect” in regards to Lance’s wings felt odd. He wanted to believe it because it was Keith who was saying it, and he never wasted words on lies, but it just didn’t feel right. His wings were plain. Were normal. Weren’t anything interesting or unique to look at.

“I prefer thicker wings,” Lance said, hesitant. “Wider feathers are stronger, especially when they’re tightly woven.”

Keith’s eyebrows went up. “Like Hunk’s?”

“Hunk’s wings are great,” Lance said. “But I’d never be able to carry wings like that, they’d be too heavy for my back. You’d have to be as physically strong as Hunk to have wings like his.”

“Like Shiro’s, then.”

“I think I’d have the same problem if my wings were like his. Too big, too heavy. His feathers are a lot daintier than Hunk’s though, don’t you think? They’re not small or narrow, but they’re really elegant. If Pidge groomed their wings a bit more I’m sure they’d have really similar feathers.”

“I didn’t know you put so much thought into this.”

Lance’s face went red. He pursed his lips and glanced away. Of course, he would have loved to have wings like Keith’s. Those were the ideal. And if he couldn’t have them, then he wanted his mate to have them. Maybe that was because he liked Keith, though. He supposed that wings like Keith’s wouldn’t have looked half as good on anyone other than Keith himself.

But Keith didn’t need to know that.

“Can you groom my wings now?” Keith asked.

Lance gave him a puzzled frown.

“Well, there’s nothing else to do.” Impatiently, Keith shifted forwards, and offered a wing. “It’s uncomfortable to have them like this.”

Lance didn’t say anything. It was partially his fault that Keith’s wings had gotten so messed up in the first place, and he had already agreed to groom them. He’d just assumed that he’d probably do it back on the castle, when they were with everyone in the common room, or something. Maybe in front of the mirror in the bathroom.

But there was nothing else to do… and he did want to get his hands on those pretty wings.

Keith’s feathers were a strange texture. His wing bone was covered in thicker, rougher feathers that could probably use a conditioning. Lance worked on them first, carefully parting the feathers and untangling any strands that had becoming knotted or frosted together by the ice outside. His wings were bigger than Lance’s, so there was more to work with.

He enjoyed it.

Enraptured, he smoothed his fingers down the now neat feathers, pleased with his work. He twisted Keith’s wing a little, trying to urge him into a different position, and it had Keith turning towards him so that he wasn’t uncomfortable. Their heads were bent over Keith’s wing, so close that Lance could feel every one of Keith’s soft exhales. Keith seemed interested in what he was doing, so Lance focused on the movements of his fingers, determined not to feel embarrassed.

Even if grooming was an intimate thing, they were teammates. Lance groomed Hunk’s wings sometimes. He’d seen Shiro help Pidge smooth down the feathers they couldn’t reach. It didn’t have to mean anything.

He kind of wanted it to mean something.

The feathers on the inside of Keith’s wings were noticeably softer. He usually walked around with his wings pressed to his back, so it made sense that these ones – the ones less exposed to weather and movement – were softer to the touch. Keith didn’t have any down left, unlike the layers of softness Pidge had, or the small amounts Lance still sported. 

“Do you wash your wings at all?” Lance asked him.

Keith shook his head. Stands of his dark hair fell in between his eyes, so he pushed them back behind his ear. “Not really.”

“You should try the shampoo Coran made for me,” Lance suggested. He could talk about cosmetics all day. It was safe. “It really helps keep your feathers in line.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah! I use it on the underside of my wings, and sometimes on the outside. It’s harder for the outer feathers to absorb the shampoo because the feathers there are larger and built for strong winds, but it’s decent enough. I can give you some later.”

“Okay.”

“But you have to actually use it! No pretending. I’ll know.”

Keith cracked a small smile. “Okay.”

Lance couldn’t help but grin. He gestured for Keith to bring his wing in a little, and started on the next section. God, his feathers were so soft. They weren’t like downy feathers, or baby feathers. They had their own unique texture, unlike anything Lance had ever felt before. 

On the inside of Keith’s wing, Lance found a loose feather. He groomed the feathers around it, wondering if perhaps it was just tangled in another feather, but that wasn’t the case. “I’m going to have to pull this one,” he said, glancing up at Keith for permission.

He’d forgotten how close Keith was. 

His eyes were a strange, warm violet.

“It’s fine,” Keith said. “I pull feathers a lot.”

Lance frowned, and looked back down. “You shouldn’t do that,” he said. “If you groom them regularly, you won’t lose as many. Pulling them weakens the feathers.”

Carefully, he pinched the base of the feather, and snapped it free. It came out surprisingly easily, and only the barest of flinches rippled through Keith’s wing. “I’ve never really been able to groom them well,” Keith admitted. “They straighten themselves with water, so I’ve never done much to them.”

Lance felt a little sad for him. “I can help with that, if you want,” he offered, tentative.

“Really?”

“If you want.”

“I’d like that.”

Lance smiled to himself. He felt a little selfish, wanting to feel Keith’s wings for longer. But at least Keith didn’t seem to mind, and he’d be getting something out of it, too. His wings would be stronger and he’d fly faster if his feathers were maintained. 

A sudden sharp spike in the wind outside shifted Red. Lance flinched, head snapping up. Red lurched, but didn’t move further than a few metres in the snow. Lance guessed that the ice was probably piling up outside, burying the Lions deeper. He was glad they’d managed to make it behind the ridge, but wished they were more sheltered.

“Is Red going to be okay?” Lance asked, as the Lion lurched again. He was fairly certain the wind wouldn’t be able to lift them up again, but he was worried for Blue, too. He had no way of knowing how far behind the ridge he’d gotten her, not when he’d had to dart between the muzzles in the icy storm.

“I think so,” Keith said. He was sitting straighter, his wings fluffed up again. Lance’s fingers had sunk in against the wing bone without him realising. Keith didn’t seem to realise, either.

Slowly, Lance untangled his fingers. He’d messed up the feathers he’d latched onto and would have to groom them again. The storm was making him nervous, and Keith was making him nervous, and only one of those nerves felt any sort of good.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance prefers Keith's wings hehe 


	7. Seven

Hours passed without any sign of letup from the furious storm outside. Lance was growing tired, and felt the pull of exhaustion in every one of his stiff bones. He could only stall so much time grooming Keith’s wings before there was no feathers left to smooth down and he’d run the risk of Keith figuring out his... whatever he had. 

He grew drowsy quite quickly without Keith’s wings to occupy him. He wanted those feathers beneath his fingers again, or at least Keith’s attention on him, because that had felt just as good. There was no way he could just play with Keith’s wings though, they weren’t close like that. He was uncomfortable on the ground, and the back of the pilot’s chair wasn’t anywhere near soft enough to sleep against. Every time he shifted he could hear his bones cracking. He definitely needed a good stretch.

At some point, he began to nod off. His neck hurt something fierce when he realised he was trying to sleep sitting up, so he shifted away from the chair, and curled up on the floor with his arm under his head. The floor was hard and unforgiving, and cold seeped in through his armour, but at least he wasn’t shivering. 

“Are you cold?” Keith asked. His voice sounded far away.

“I’m fine,” Lance said. He tugged the blanket up closer to his chin and curled his legs up so that his feet didn’t stick out. He’d managed to fit his wings under the blanket without pulling too much away from Keith, so they were providing an extra layer of warmth that he sorely needed. 

If he hadn’t had been so exhausted, he definitely wouldn’t have been able to sleep. Red seemed properly embedded in the snow now, and had stopped jolting when the wind became rough. Lance fell into a fitful sleep, one where he still felt half awake, but his eyes were closed. At one point, he rolled over, and then back over again, ending up much closer to Keith than he thought he’d be. He didn’t quite realise where he’d ended up until he felt Keith’s fingers tentatively touch his head. 

It was strange. Half-asleep, he felt the touch, but he didn’t jerk away in embarrassment like he probably would have if he were awake. It almost felt like Keith was being… affectionate. His fingers rested lightly on the back of Lance’s head, tentative, like he was afraid Lance would suddenly wake up and pull away. When all Lance did was sigh and lean into the touch, his expression softer, Keith pressed his palm firmer against the back of Lance’s head. 

When Lance was younger, full of restless energy and an inability to fall asleep, his mother would run her fingers down his back or through his hair to settle him down. The gentle patterns she’d draw on his skin or the way she’d very slowly twist his hair around her fingers would send him to sleep within minutes. His father hadn’t been as good at it, but he’d run his big hands down Lance’s little downy wings like he was tucking a baby bird to sleep, and it eventually did the job.

Keith’s fingers were just as soothing. At times, Lance could hardly feel it, but the tiny touches never completely stopped. As Lance sunk closer and closer to true sleep, he felt his wings relax, slumping against his side and back where they were tucked in to keep him warm. 

He probably wasn’t asleep for long. An hour at the most. There wasn’t much sleep to be had on the hard floor, not even if Keith was playing with his hair when he thought Lance wasn’t awake to notice. 

There was no reason to think that Keith wasn’t tired, too. They’d both been flying the Lions all day, and they’d been stuck in the storm for a while now. Still, it was a surprise when Lance opened his eyes and found Keith asleep, slumped over against the back of the pilot’s chair. For a moment, Lance was disorientated; his cheek was pressed against the side of Keith’s thigh and Keith’s fingers were in his hair and one of Keith’s big wings was perched over him, a canopy of onyx feathers.

Carefully, Lance sat up. His heart had climbed into his throat. 

He didn’t want to let himself misread the signs, but he could already feel heat creeping into his cheeks. There were a lot of meanings to the way people positioned their wings. Mothers and fathers would cocoon their babies in their wings to sooth them when they cried. People who were close would groom another person’s wings if enough trust was there. Lovers would sleep with their wings over one another, feathers tangled. Wings could be incredibly emotive – fluffing up when a person was angry or embarrassed or flustered, flicking back when a person was struck by determination or hesitance of fear. 

Wings were easy to read.

But Keith’s were not.

As Lance shifted, Keith’s wing fell back, giving him room to sit up. His feathers were all groomed and neat, unlike Lance’s. As if responding to some hidden will, Keith’s wing brushed up against Lance’s back, urging him closer. It could have been the way he breathed moving his wings, or a desire to have them tucked close in his sleep, but whatever it was had Lance caught up in them. 

He wanted to lean into Keith’s wing, to let its warmth envelope him. How easy would it be, to just let himself do that? 

But it wasn’t right. Lance wasn’t… he wasn’t what anyone on the team needed. Not Allura, not Shiro, not Pidge or Hunk. Not Keith. It wasn’t just because they were pivotal parts of Voltron, and it wasn’t because of timing or the team or anything like that.

Even in another time or place or world, Lance still didn’t think he’d be what anyone needed.

He slipped out from beneath Keith’s wing.

The cold was still seeping in from outside. Lance’s feathers puffed up, making him shiver. It was like the hairs on the back of his neck rising, except it was all over his wings. He anxiously smoothed them down, and fixed some of the feathers while he did. The state of his wings was making his stomach feel like it was in knots. He desperately wanted to wash them, to soften the coarse feathers with layers of conditioner and spend hours making them look less plain. They needed a serious grooming and maybe more plucking and anything else he could think of to make them look better.

Lance was getting antsy. He didn’t like being in a confined space, and that was mostly because of Keith. He looked so gentle in his sleep, even if he still had that persistent little frown in the corner of his lips. It was starting to look cute. The blanket had slumped down to his thighs, and in a fit of annoyance Lance pulled it back up over him. Keith frowned, and made a little noise that definitely didn’t go straight to Lance’s heart, before he slumped back into sleep. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Keith look so vulnerable, even if he was scowling.

Impatient, Lance reached for his helmet. He checked his communication lines, but only harsh static buzzed in his ears. Nothing yet. How much longer would they be cooped up? There was no way he’d be able to hide his stupid obsession with Keith’s wings if he was stuck with them for much longer. 

Maybe it’d be okay to stare while Keith was asleep. It wasn’t like he could tell, anyway. Right?

Lance stood, and stretched, his eyes firmly fixed anywhere but Keith. His footsteps were light as he paced the cockpit again, trying to warm up. He beat his wings a few times and winced when the left one ached. He couldn’t move it much, not with the splint and bandages. It would take a day or two to heal, but Lance wished it hadn’t been hurt at all. He really wanted to fly somewhere with enough space for him to never have to think about walls or ceilings or corridors.

His mind drifted back to the castle. It was huge, but it wasn’t built for winged humans. He needed someplace where he could build up speed, where he had enough room to hit the breaks or plummet to the floor without the fear of having no place to veer to. Was there a room big enough? Allura had asked him not to fly in the castle until she’d figured out a solution for him, but… the hangar bays were definitely big enough. They could comfortably store five Lions with an insane amount of room to spare.

Maybe he’d fly there, when they got back. As long as no one was around to see this time.

“Lance?”

He jumped at the sound of Keith’s voice, and glanced over his shoulder. Keith was sitting up, rubbing a hand down his face as he tried to wake himself. His wings stretched out before folding in again. 

“You’re awake,” Keith said.

“Nice observation,” Lance snorted. He dug through the provisions box and handed him a water packet, taking one for himself, too. “Drink up. Won’t be good if we get dehydrated.”

In all honesty, Lance just wanted something to do with his mouth that wasn’t talking. Keith looked disgruntled, like he was offended that he’d woken up in the first place. Maybe he hadn’t intended to fall asleep at all.

“You tired still? Sleep, if you want,” Lance said.

“I’m fine.” Keith stood, shaking the blankets off. He rolled his shoulder. “It’s just uncomfortable.”

Lance hummed, agreeing. Definitely wasn’t comfortable. Still, Keith himself had been comfortable. There was still a spark of contentment simmering in his stomach, left over from the feeling of Keith’s wings hovering over him, like they were trying to protect him from the cold. It was completely unintentional, he was sure. He was also sure that he had dreamed Keith’s fingers in his hair, and that he would never, ever mention it out loud.

“Any news?” Keith asked, nodding in the direction of the helmets.

“None,” Lance sighed. He stubbornly continued to drink his water. It was better than running his mouth, anyway.

 

Rescue came in the form of frantic Paladins and one Altean Princess several hours later. In the end, exhaustion had won out over Lance’s restlessness, and he’d curled up beneath the blankets to try and sleep. Keith had done all the work – he’d given the teams their coordinates as soon as the storm had let up enough for communication lines to be established. 

Lance had felt weird leaving Red to trudge his way back to Blue. He’d gotten used to Red’s glow and now everything seemed to be a slightly more pinkish colour. That explained the red in his cheeks, too. Obviously.

Allura had scolded them when they were back in the compound. She’d been worried, and was glad they were safe, and made them both promise to never act so recklessly again. As far as recklessness went, Lance thought that Red trying to save Blue, and then vice versa, wasn’t all that reckless. He still didn’t understand why Keith had tried to save him.

That was a thought for another desperate, lonely night.

Their time on the icy planet was short, after that. As soon as the storm abated, they finished repairing the towers. Pidge and Hunk got all the internal work done while Allura made agreements and treaties and formed alliances necessary to the success of the Coalition. Everyone was working, working, working – there was no sleep to be had until they were back on the castle, and by then, everyone was beyond exhaustion.

Lance included.

He felt… different. Something in him was twisting and tangling, and he wasn’t sure what it was. His plain wings, his feelings for Keith, his replaceable position in Voltron, his inadequacies – they were all entangled. Before, it had been easy to separate them. He could be miserable about them one at a time. But now one was affecting another. His plain wings meant that Keith would never like him like Lance liked Keith. His feelings for Keith were affecting the way he viewed Voltron. His views on Voltron were making his iffy position even iffier. 

Everything would have just been easier if he didn’t like Keith.

Or if his wings were nicer.

But at least an extensive, all-consuming grooming session would fix one of those problems.


	8. Eight

Returning to the castle was a big relief. There was a quick debrief from Allura before they were all allowed to go. Lance wasn’t surprised when everyone headed straight for the showers, but he lingered. Hunk cast him a puzzled look when Lance didn’t follow them like he usually would have.

“I’m just going to… change my sheets, first,” Lance said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look. “More blankets and stuff, you know?”

Hunk’s face softened with understanding, and he left Lance be.

Lance felt bad about lying, but getting more blankets wasn’t exactly a bad idea. He liked the weight of them when he slept even if it wasn’t particularly cold. Besides, after being stuck in that icy storm, who wouldn’t want to be all warm and rugged up for a little while? 

Fortunately for him, the supply closets closest to the bedrooms were always stocked with extra blankets and pillows. The Paladins were free to take as many as they wanted, a favour that Lance had liberally abused in the name of pillow forts that everyone on the castle could fit beneath. Now, he raided one of the closets for a thick, plush quilt, one that he quickly squirreled away to his room. He wanted to avoid the others in the shower, and knew they wouldn’t be done yet, so he went back to the closet to get fresh sheets for his bed, too. 

The rooms the Paladins were given were nice, even if they were quite plain. Lance had spent a while trying to make it feel more like home. He asked Coran for beauty products, particularly ones for his skin, that he kept stored in one of the wall compartments. There was a hook by the doors that he routinely hung his jacket up on. He always left his Blue Lion slippers at the end of the bed, where his pyjamas were folded.

Slowly but surely, it became a little more familiar. He collected little things from the planets he visited and tried to make it feel like home.

The Alteans had made an effort to help the avians in transitioning to life on the castle, as well. Back on Earth, winter meant wing-jackets were brought out of the closet. Most clothing featured slits in the back wide enough and long enough to wiggle their wings through with a bit of shuffling around. Like clothing sizes, shirts and jackets boasted different wing sizes, too. The warmer months generally had people wearing their wings bare – perhaps with some sort of cream or spray to keep the feathers hydrated and protected from the harsher rays of sun that summer brought. 

Feathers were usually more susceptible to colder temperatures, so wing-jackets were worn in the colder months. Much like the Paladin armour, there was usually a strip of tough fabric to clip or buckle over the wing bone, and then sheets of fabric to hang on either side of the wing, keeping the feathers protected. A lot of feminine people wore lacy or sheer fabric over their wings, the fabric strip often substituted for decorative jewellery chains or ribbons. People with more masculine tastes would wear stiffer fabric that kept their wings stream-lined, and the fabric along the wing bone would be substituted for something like leather or denim. Wing fashion was trendy.

Once the Altean had learned of this, they’d managed to get the castle to synthesise wing-jackets. They were made from a light, comfortable fabric that connected over the wing bone with strips of ribbon instead of clasps or buckles. They were good for sleeping in when it was cold, so Lance snagged one up out of the closet and took that back to his room, too.

While avians had very bird-like features, they also tended to have bird-like instincts. They were subtle, of course, like forming “flocks” amongst groups of exceptionally close people, and grooming each other’s wings. It was less common, but some avians, like Lance, also tended to nest. It was a habit that pregnant women, families with young children, or people who were anxious or nervous tended to do. Nesting was exactly like it sounded; a collection of soft or comforting items were arranged, typically on a bed, in a nest-like fashion to make the creator feel at ease and safe. With all the blankets and sheets he collected, he’d made himself a little nest without even realising.

He knew that realistically, nesting meant that he wasn’t managing his anxiety as well or as carefully as he needed to. Nesting meant that he letting his mind overpower his thoughts, but even so, he let himself indulge in the soft blankets for a bit. Sometimes he just needed the comfort of something so basic to feel better.

Most of his insecurities were very personal. His mother would always remind him that it was the heart and the mind people fell in love with, not the body, and that even so his wings were still beautiful and unique, but he couldn’t quite believe it, no matter how confident he was. His feathers were just… plain. Everyone wanted wings with feathers as dark as night or as gold as the sun. Some people were lucky enough to have feathers the same peachy colour as their hair, or even strawberry blonde or a cream colour. Their wings were as aesthetically pleasing to look at as latte art was.

But Lance’s wings weren’t like that.

They were just brown.

He was only making himself more miserable and worked up, so after an appropriate amount of time, he snuck out of his room and headed for the bathrooms. He had a pile of cosmetic products stacked in his arms and his pyjamas ready to change into once he was done showering. Everything in him ached to be cleaned and groomed. The entire castle was painfully quiet as he all but tip-toed down the corridors, making as little noise as possible. He assumed everyone was already asleep, and wished that he was too, but his wings needed tending.

Thankfully, the bathrooms were empty. He’d never been more relieved to be alone. 

He chose the shower stall the furthest away from the door and got straight to work. The hot water felt blissfully good on his skin. He spent a liberal amount of time soaping up every inch of himself and washing his hair, knowing that his wings would take more time. 

And that they did.

At his request, Coran had managed to synthesise a product to condition the Paladin’s feathers. It was green in colour and smelt like fruit but did the job well. Lance sat on the little ledge in the shower and rubbed the conditioner into his wings, feather by feather. It took ages to reach every inch of them, and he’d never been more relieved to be flexible. He wasn’t a short person, and so his wings weren’t short, either. It would have been so much easier if he’d had someone to help him.

But he didn’t let his mind stray down that road.

After the conditioner had been sitting in his feathers for long enough, he washed it out with lukewarm water. Only when the water ran clear from suds did he finally turn the taps off. 

While his wings air-dried, with the help of a few vigorous flaps, he moisturized his skin and applied a face mask. It had been a bit of a surprise when Coran had turned out to be very knowledgeable in the art of skin care. But then again, he did present himself quite formally, and hardly ever had a hair out of place. It sort of made sense, when Lance thought about it.

With his wings finally dry and his face clean of any product, Lance took his place in front of the large mirror. He spread his wings as wide as they would go, trying to take in the damage that had been done and what he could do to fix them. 

His left wing was worse. The sprain had left feathers sticking up and bending in the wrong direction, and he’d definitely need to pull some out. The right was mostly dishevelled, some feathers tangled. He was dismayed to see the extent of it. He’d never let his wings get this messy before, even with all the Voltron action he got caught up in.

Grooming his wings took more than an hour. Sleep dragged at his bones and made his eyelids droop, but he didn’t let himself drift off. He wouldn’t be able to sleep comfortably unless he knew his wings looked better. If he woke up and they were as awful as they had before the grooming and conditioning he would only make himself feel worse.

Still, by the time he was finally done, he knew he’d lost a lot of precious time to sleep.

He hauled himself back to his room after disposing of his plucked feathers and the splint Keith had used to ensure his wing stayed still. His mind was entirely focused on bed, but instead of being able to crawl into his sheets like he wanted to, he found someone waiting by his door.

“Hunk?”

“There you are,” Hunk said, sighing with relief as he approached Lance. “I was really worried, man.”

Lance’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

Hunk hesitated, before saying, “You didn’t make it to the bathrooms while we were there, that’s all. It’s not like you to miss out on your beauty routine.”

Despite his tiredness, a smile crept onto Lance’s face. He’d known Hunk for what felt like forever, and if he had to choose one person who he thought knew him best, it would be Hunk. They’d been roommates in the Garrison and were always paired together on flight simulations. He’d even introduced Hunk to his family – his mother absolutely adored his friend. 

“I just needed some time alone,” Lance admitted.

“Is this about what happened during the storm?” Hunk asked. “Did something happen?”

“No, no- it’s just,” Lance cut himself off with a sigh. “I don’t know.”

Hunk put a warm hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You know I’m here for you, right? We’re best buds.”

“I know,” Lance said, and he did. He trusted Hunk with his insecurities and his worries, he really did, but this situation felt different. He wasn’t even sure what had him so rattled. It wasn’t just that his wings were plain, because they’d always been that way. Maybe it was Keith, and Lance’s increasing fondness for him, but Lance didn’t even want to think about that. 

Really, he just wanted to sleep.

It would be better to avoid Keith, anyway.

“You know, I’m not the only one worried,” Hunk started, his voice slow and careful.

Lance gaze him a puzzled look. 

“Pidge noticed you were gone too, but Shiro said you needed space, so he didn’t want to let anyone go see where you were,” Hunk said. “And… and Keith was worried, too. He waited around in the bathroom for a while after we’d left.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “He did?”

“Yeah,” Hunk nodded. “He said he wanted to see if your wings needed grooming.”

Lance’s heart fumbled over its own erratic beating. There was something so innocent in the thought of Keith waiting for him that he struggled to comprehend any of it. Keith had never shown an interest in grooming someone’s wings before, or at least not where the others could see it. So why now? What had changed?

“Oh, that’s probably because I fixed his up after he got snow on them,” Lance said. That had to be it. Lance had groomed Keith’s wings, so Keith felt indebted to him. It was as simple as that.

But Hunk was frowning. “Lance, you know it’s okay to- to like… ugh. Okay, listen. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know what you’re like, and what happens when you get fixated on something. If you need someone to talk to, please just come to me, alright? No matter what the problem is. Don’t get stuck telling yourself that whatever you’re feeling – and I really mean _whatever_ it is – is a bad thing, because it’s not. We’re a team, yeah? We’ve always got each other’s backs.”

Lance was a little surprised by Hunk’s words, but he didn’t let it show. He wasn’t sure when he’d let Hunk get so worried over him. Maybe he had been stuck in his head lately.

“Alright,” he said, “you’re right. We’re a team.”

Hunk nodded, satisfied, and then they both went to bed.


	9. Nine

It took a week before Lance felt comfortable enough to sneak out of his room in search of a place to fly. Allura hadn’t made any progress regarding the problem, and he wasn’t going to push it, but he was getting antsy again. His left wing wasn’t sore anymore, the sprain now healed, so he’d finally gotten himself over his guilt at disobeying Allura and snuck out.

The castle was dreadfully quiet at night. Lance had gotten good at telling when everyone was asleep, including Allura and Coran. There was something different about the castle when its leaders were slumbering, something docile and silent. Lance wasn’t sure if he liked the way the castle was so quiet or not, but it did mean he could sneak out without the fear of being found and questioned.

Thankfully, the hangar bays were empty. He hadn’t really expected anyone to be there in the first place, but it was still a relief to be alone. Aside from the Lions, of course. They sat like neatly lined statues, as grand as ever. Lance still hadn’t gotten used to the size of the Lions, not even Blue. He struggled to climb on top of her paw.

But the sight of her did comfort him, a little. Sometimes, when he was overwhelmed by the vastness of space or how far away from home he was or even his duties as a Paladin, he’d hide inside her cockpit until his pulse had settled and he felt like he could breathe again. The longer he was with Blue, the deeper he felt their connection go. It was like there was a thread connecting them, and each day it grew thicker, less likely to snap. Sometimes he swore he could feel Blue’s consciousness in him, thrumming like a gentle tide.

Even then he could feel it, just a gentle glow in the back of his mind. It was like Blue could tell he was restless, that he needed space to roam. Her thoughts felt like understanding, and that was all Lance needed from her.

After the doors had slid shut behind him, Lance shucked off his jacket, and laid it on one of the crates stacked by the wall. He stepped away from the crates so that he had more space and stretched his wings, giving them a few cursory flaps. He hadn’t flown properly in a while, not since his little night trip with Keith. It was important to stretch his muscles before he did anything, and he took the gentle stretches as a time to cool down the nerves in his stomach.

He wasn’t even sure what he was nervous over.

Actually flying gave Lance a rush of emotion. The hangar bays were definitely big enough. Even the Lions had room to comfortably move about, all five of them. It took Lance at _least_ thirty seconds of quick ascending to get anywhere near the ceiling, where he lingered. Looking down on the Lions from above was odd. He’d never seen them from this angle, and it made him snicker a little. It seemed as though even the Lions had a bad angle.

When his muscles were comfortably warmed up, Lance started flying for real.

There was nothing that could possibly compare to the feeling of flying without barriers. Lance remembered the times his family had taken a trip to the beach, and he and his siblings had raced across the shallow waters of the ocean, dipping their fingers and toes in the frothy tide. He’d felt so weightless with nothing but the welcoming waves beneath him. Lance had always had an affinity for water, had always loved the beach and the local swimming pool. He supposed that was one of the reasons he got along with Blue so well.

He spent a while doing laps around the entire hangar bay. There was a pleasant burn in his shoulder bones, and in the place where his wings connected to his back. It was one he got from use, one that meant he was exercising his wings well, getting them nice and stretched. He liked the feel of it, the feel that his wings were moving in the way they were meant to. 

It felt… normal. Natural.

He wondered what it’d be like to fly with his flock. The Paladins were a flock, right? They didn’t exactly do things flocks did – or at least, not as frequently as expected – but they were the only avians around. Birds of a feather and all that, right?

It would be nice to fly with his friends for leisure. Any time they were in the air together had been for training, or in a fight. It wasn’t exactly the best way to bond. Besides, he thought it would be nice to fly around casually. He used to do it with Hunk, and sometimes Pidge, back when they were in the Garrison. Just like taking a scenic walk, it was a time for relaxing, and for a bit of outdoors air. Of course, it wouldn’t be wise to get some outdoors air while in space, but it was the sentiment that counted.

When his wings grew weary, Lance angled himself down towards Blue. He swooped over her head, and then gently lowered himself down onto her muzzle. She was sitting upright, head held high, so he perched on her nose and grinned at her.

“Hey there, girl,” he said, as he patted the cool metal beneath him, “bet you didn’t expect to see me up here, huh?”

There wasn’t much of a response from Blue, but Lance was sure he felt a faint surge of warmth go through him.

Lance sighed, and laid down on Blue’s muzzle, his wings stretched out on either side of him. All the tension in his body was slowly unwinding. It had been a long week, and even though he was disobeying Allura’s gentle orders, he didn’t regret coming out to fly around in the hangar bays.

 

“Your wings look different.”

Lance startled at the sudden statement, his eyes glancing up at Keith. He hadn’t even heard Keith approach him, and yet there he was, looking down at Lance like he’d done something to personally offend him. “Uh… I conditioned them, I guess?”

No one but Hunk knew about Lance’s obsessive grooming, nor about all the feathers he’d plucked in a rush of self-loathing. His feathers tended to grow back at a pretty decent rate, so it wasn’t like the loss of them was particularly noticeable, but Lance could feel it. Aside from that, he supposed his wings were looking a little glossier than they had done in the last few weeks. He’d been conditioning them every second day so that they recovered properly from the ice.

His feathers really were suited to warmer weather.

Keith frowned at him – or at his wings. 

A shiver of doubt went through Lance. He glanced at his wings, trying to see any fault in them, and like usual, there was more than enough to fill his eyes. For someone like Keith, who hardly ever seemed to manage his own wings, to scowl at Lance’s so fiercely… it kind of hurt. A lot. It wasn’t like he could help that their colour was a motley of ugly brown splotches. And it wasn’t his fault that brown was the most common colour, and therefore the least desirable. He’d gotten his wings from his mother and his father had loved her all the more for them! So what if they were plain? They were his and he was stuck with them.

Still, Lance drew his wings in tightly, pressing them flat against his back in a rather self-conscious manner. If Keith had looked at them with the same fire in his eyes as he did then a few months ago, Lance would have puffed up with indignation, and probably snapped a confident retort at him – “what, my wings so beautiful you can’t keep your eyes off them, mullet?”

Something like that. As it was, Lance just felt small. 

Keith just frowned at him harder, if that were even possible. “Have you been avoiding me?” He asked.

“What? No.” Lance most definitely had. After everything that had happened in the Red Lion – and really, _nothing_ had happened, he told himself – he felt weird around Keith. Like every one of his actions was amplified by a hundred. That glance he sent Keith during training? Totally betrayed his feelings. That way his wings sometimes brushed against Keith’s when they fought for space in a doorway? Was definitely more loving than rivalry. 

All Lance wanted to do was bury his feelings before he drowned in them.

He wasn’t good at liking people. Not properly. He could flirt and wink and send kisses all he wanted, but it never really meant anything. It was harmless fun, something he did to show off because he liked it. He was good at complimenting people.

Not so good at receiving compliments.

Most of the time, that was because he didn’t really get any.

And he understood it, he really did. He had nice blue eyes, and sometimes his smile was pretty decent, but he wasn’t drop-dead stunning. He didn’t have stereotypically handsome looks, or looks that made a person fall in love. His eyebrows were too thin and his face was too narrow and his body was perpetually stuck somewhere in between too gawky and lean. Thanks to Voltron, he liked to think he was leaner than anything, but there were still times when he noticed his elbows sticking out just a bit too far, or the thinness of his legs. 

He wished he had more muscle tone, like Keith.

Or at least a face that wasn’t the type people needed to learn to love.

Keith didn’t seem particularly convinced by Lance’s rushed answer. He took a seat at the table beside Lance, his wings fluffed up bigger than usual. They were at the tail-end of a meal, so the others were all deep in conversation, or busy moving plates back to the kitchen. No one noticed them at the end of the table, but Lance still felt watched. He tried to make himself relax but failed.

“Did I do something wrong?” Keith demanded. 

“No,” Lance said, frowning.

“This isn’t about is being stuck in Red, is it?”

“No…?”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t,” Lance insisted, exasperated. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

Keith still looked unconvinced. There was something in the downturn of his lips that made Lance feel incredibly guilty. He had been avoiding Keith, but it wasn’t anything Keith had done. It was Lance’s own feelings that were frightening him.

He just needed to get over them.

“Look,” Lance said, as he drew closer to Keith, wary of the hypothetical eyes he felt on him, “I’ve just been busy, okay? But I said I’d show you how to condition your wings, right? We can do that later, if you want to. Coran’s making more conditioner tonight anyway, so there will be enough.”

Keith studied him for a moment, before nodding. The fluffiness of his feathers slowly decreased, as did the furrow in his brows. He almost looked… reassured. Or relieved. “Alright,” he said. “But I’m… not good at that stuff.”

Lance waved a hand. “It’s fine. You have an expert to teach you!”

Keith gave him a tiny, almost unrecognisable smile.

What was he getting himself into? A selfish little part of him had only suggested that he fulfil his promise to Keith about conditioning his wings so that he could get his hands back on those beautiful feathers. It had been a while since anyone had groomed him – not since Keith had, and even then that hardly counted – and Lance was started to crave the attention. He could always ask Hunk, but he felt fixated on Keith. Maybe if he groomed Keith, Keith would offer to groom him back? It was only polite, right?

Lance abruptly cut off his thoughts with a shake of his head, and leaned back in his chair, feeling frustrated with himself. What sort of idiot pined after someone they’d spent a good amount of time aggravating? No one was attracted to the person who annoyed them the most. 

Besides, Keith deserved someone with beautiful wings. Who was to say he even liked guys, anyway? Lance was letting himself fall without any intention of stopping and it was the worst thing he could do to himself.

There was no point in loving someone who was never going to love him back.


	10. Ten

Lance was a coward.

And it was clear that Keith understood that, if the disappointed frown on his face was anything to go by. He looked crushed and it was making Lance feel tiny and insignificant.

He was a coward and now they both knew it. Lance and Keith’s promised wing-conditioning time had become the _team’s_ conditioning time. Lance had invited everyone. “The more the merrier, right?” He’d grinned, when Hunk had given him a doubtful look. 

“Keith did mention that you’d offered to help him… but I don’t think he realised you meant everyone,” Hunk had told him. 

“Wing health is important, Hunk!” Lance had insisted, ignoring the fact that Keith had said anything about the entire situation. “Besides, everyone’s wings could use a good conditioning. Don’t you want wings as soft as mine?”

Hunk eventually relented, when Lance kept pushing the issue. He wasn’t sure why he pushed it in the first place, even knowing that he was embarrassing himself. Maybe he was nervous to be alone with Keith and his pretty wings. He just… he didn’t want to let himself have any more reason to like Keith. And spending time alone with him? Alone, grooming? The last time that had happened, Lance had only fallen deeper into whatever pit he was currently stuck in. 

So that left him there, in the showers, all of the team seated on towels on the floor like they were at a luxury spa. It was a far cry from what Lance had panicked about – again, him and Keith, alone, grooming – but it wasn’t that bad. Shiro seemed interested, and Pidge wasn’t entirely bothered, which was a win in Lance’s books. And Lance had his hands full of Hunk’s wings, both literally and figuratively, so he was able to studiously ignore Keith’s annoyed pouting.

“If you apply this where the feathers are the coarsest first, in your case at this end Hunk, then by the time you’re finished conditioning the entire wing, it will have had enough time to sink in,” Lance said. He passed Hunk the conditioner after he’d showed Hunk what to do. In a lot of ways, Hunk’s wings were very familiar to him. Lance had groomed them when they were in the Garrison. Just in a platonic way, of course, because Hunk wasn’t interested in guys, but it had made them feel like a flock. In a slightly lesser way, Pidge was the same. Lance had groomed Pidge’s wings for them when they were in the Garrison, too. 

“Are you sure this stuff works?” Hunk asked, his nose scrunching up as he took a whiff of the conditioner. 

“Yes!” Lance said. He stretched his wings, fluffing them up with some degree of pride. “It’s made my wings perfectly silky. Guaranteed to work.”

“And what would have happened if it didn’t work the first time you used it?” Hunk asked, amused. 

“Hey, give me more credit than that,” Lance whined, drawing his wings back in. “I tested it on plucked feathers first. And I had Coran make the formula based on the same shampoo we use for our hair, with a few little modifications. This stuff leaves a water-resistant coating on the feathers and has oxygenating particles that helps balance out the synthesised oxygen we’re living in.”

Hunk blinked at him. “Oh.”

Lance grinned, feeling oddly proud of himself. He’d worked hard with Coran to figure out why his wings were dryer than usual, and it had had something to do with the lack of humidity and the space-oxygen. Coran was the one who’d come up with the formula for the conditioner, but Lance had helped a little. He liked to think it was a team effort.

Besides, he had really liked working with Coran. It had been their own little project, one they did when there was nothing else to do. It was a problem solved quickly, mostly because unhealthy feathers inhibited their flying, but it had made Lance feel much more comfortable around the Alteans all those months ago when he’d first left Earth.

His little spa session carried on without much of an incident. Hunk and Shiro got on with the impromptu lesson with enough eagerness to keep Lance satisfied. Pidge was less enthusiastic about the whole deal, so Lance had them sit in front of him, and he did all the hard work for them. Pidge’s auburn feathers were coarse and a little stiff in places, probably from sitting still for so long and the fact that Pidge wasn’t very interested in beauty products.

“See, doesn’t this feel good?” Lance boasted, as Pidge leaned further and further into his grip. He was carefully untangling the downy feathers at the junction where their wings met their back. Everyone was still wearing a shirt, so Lance was careful not to get any conditioner on Pidge’s wings. It was going to be a pain to wash it all out, but everyone was more comfortable this way.

“Feels great,” Pidge murmured. “You should just always do it.”

“What, for you?”

“Yes.”

Lance laughed. He untangled a particularly fierce knot and Pidge let out a yelp. “Still want me to do it for you?”

Pidge sent him a withering look over their shoulder. “If I say yes, will you do it for me?”

“No.”

“I’m still going to say yes.”

Lance snorted, but a pleased flutter went through his wings. He liked feeling like he was providing for his friends, even if it was only to groom their wings. It felt personal, like he was trusted with doing something important to them, and was doing it well. 

Pidge’s comments seemed to draw the attention of Keith, who was currently glaring a hole into the side of Lance’s head. Lance wanted to shrink away, but he fixed his gaze on Pidge’s little wings and refused to look up. It wasn’t so easy to lose himself in Pidge’s feathers when he was suddenly quite aware of just how intently Keith was glaring at him. 

What had he done wrong, anyway? Surely Keith couldn’t be angry at him for inviting the rest of the team? There was no reason for Keith to want to be alone with him anyway, not if he disliked Lance as much as Lance felt disliked. Who would want to spend time with the person that annoyed them the most, anyway? Lance didn’t even know what he’d been thinking when he’d started up that whole rivalry thing. Sure, he’d always felt like he was stuck in Keith’s shadow. Keith had been the obstacle in the way of what Lance wanted, and Keith had treated the opportunities he’d been given as though they meant nothing. That was why Lance hadn’t liked him.

But that didn’t have anything to do with Keith himself, did it? Not with his pretty wings or his grouchy, but frustratingly interesting attitude. If Lance could hate a person just because they had what he wanted, then surely he’d hate everyone with beautiful wings. But he didn’t hate Keith. His problem was quite the opposite, actually. He wouldn’t go as far to say it was the L-word, but it definitely was… infatuation. Or something as equally overwhelming. That was probably the case, anyway.

“There,” Lance said, as he smoothed Pidge’s soapy wings down. “Feel better?”

“Much,” Pidge sighed, as they stood to stretch. “I don’t know if I could do this every time I wash my wings, though.”

“It’s worth it,” Lance told them.

He thought he was doing well with distracting himself. Even if Lance didn’t specifically help Keith, it was a group activity, right? Everyone benefited from it. That’s what he wanted to believe. Sufficed to say, Lance was rather surprised when Keith suddenly forced himself down in front of Lance. 

“I can’t reach,” Keith grumbled.

Lance blinked several times, biting the inside of his cheek. He could feel Hunk’s curious gaze, and probably Shiro’s and Pidge’s, too. The only consolation he had was the subtle way Keith shrunk into his shoulders, and the way his feathers immediately bristled. He had his back stubbornly facing Lance, wings half-flared and tense. He wouldn’t look at Lance, stubborn and angry. 

If Lance wasn’t mistaken, the tips of his ears were red. 

Very red.

Was Keith really that mad at him?

With a hesitant hand, Lance reached for the conditioner bottle. He could see that Keith had made a hear-hearted attempt to lather up his feathers on the easier to reach parts of his wings, but it was unlikely he could reach the back joints, especially the parts that were facing Lance. It wasn’t his fault that he was completely unable to ignore the tempting sight before him. Anyone would have caved if it meant getting to touch those handsome wings.

His feathers were just as soft as Lance remembered them being. He soaked conditioner into the coarser feathers, the ones he remembered from when he’d groomed Keith’s wings in Red. His mind strayed, wondering what Keith’s feathers would be like if he conditioned them regularly. 

Slowly, Keith started to relax. Tension drained out of him in fits and bursts, like he was trying to keep himself tense, but couldn’t quite remember to. Lance remained quiet as he ran his fingers through Keith’s feathers, coating each in a decent amount of conditioner. It was a slow, methodical process. Keith didn’t have tangled, downy feathers like Pidge did, and his feathers weren’t large and smooth like Hunk’s. There was a bit more of a challenge in them, a bit more resistance, something largely attributed to their thick texture. It was clear that Keith’s wings would do well in colder temperatures. They’d keep him warm.

But in the desert? Not so much.

“Didn’t you get really hot with such thick feathers?” Lance asked, before he could stop himself. “In the desert, I mean.”

Keith tilted his head back, glancing at Lance out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” he said. “But I just plucked them when it got too much.”

Lance reared back in surprise. “That’s not good for them.”

Keith only shrugged. 

“Don’t pluck them anymore, not unless they really need it,” Lance said. “You can’t put all this work into them only to rip the feathers out.”

“I don’t put much work into them.”

“Well you will now,” Lance huffed. When Keith’s left wing was completely soaked in conditioner, he ran his hand flat along the wing bone, and vertically down the feathers, making sure to smooth them into place. It would help keep them neat when he washed the conditioner out if the feathers weren’t sticking up in all different directions. 

When he started on the right wing, Keith fell silent. It wasn’t an awkward silence. As Lance worked on the remainder of Keith’s feathers, Pidge went to wash off the conditioner in their wings. They were soon joined by Hunk, and then Shiro, who’d finally finished coating both of his huge wings. Lance tried not to let his thoughts get the best of him. It wasn’t like he was alone with Keith, not with the rest of their team only metres away in the private shower stalls.

Still, his traitorous heart raced.

“I don’t know how to take care of my wings properly,” Keith murmured. His voice was so low that Lance struggled to catch it over the sounds of the showers. “I was never taught.”

“I’m teaching you right now,” Lance reminded him. 

Keith shrunk a little. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. Instead, he muttered, “Yeah, thanks,” and then went silent again.

Lance paused. Perhaps he’d missed something there. Maybe Keith was revealing more of himself and it was going straight over Lance’s head. So, he tried again. “It’s never too late to learn.”

Keith seemed thankful for the metaphorical olive branch. His wings sunk a little, like he was letting out a heaving sigh. “Even with all this stuff,” he said, gesturing vaguely towards the conditioner bottles, “it’s not like my wings will be- it’s not like they’ll be like _yours.”_

“Like mine?” Lance asked, surprised. 

“Soft…” Keith said, hesitating. “Pretty.”

Lance’s stomach coiled. It took him a moment to realise that Keith was calling his wings _pretty._ But that couldn’t be true. No one thought brown wings were pretty. They were just brown. Not even all the conditioner in the world could change that fact.

And he didn’t like being reminded of that.

After finishing Keith’s right wing, he stood, and headed for the showers. He couldn’t look at Keith. “Good thing my wings aren’t pretty then.”


	11. Eleven

Relief from any further team bonding exercises came from an upcoming mission. Supplies on the castle were running low, so they had to get to the closest depot or trading station that lay outside of the Galra’s sphere of control. Which, in hindsight, was easier said than done. Lance counted himself fortunate that he wasn’t the one directing the ship anywhere, and that the major decisions weren’t up to him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to make the right ones if the situation called for one to be made, anyway.

As it turned out, the closest place to get the supplies they needed was a sketchy little outpost in the corner of a trading system. It was dodgy, so after a brief team meeting, Allura and Coran decided it was best that they didn’t go in their Paladin armour or anything that could possibly link them to Voltron. The station wasn’t linked to the Galra, but there was no telling what spies could be around, and who’d be willing to give up information about them for the right price.

Coran’s solution to their identity problem was costumes. If not the armour, then they’d wear casual clothing to help them blend in. Nothing like the space pirate costumes he once made them wear, because there was nothing casual or subtle those. Allura helped Coran pick out the clothes, with a few select comments from Shiro, who also wasn’t keen to put them in any outfit-related danger.

Thankfully, the clothes they were given weren’t too bad. Lance had a pair of dark, fitting pants and something like a light-weight hoodie. It had needed slits cut down the back of it for his wings to fit through, but he could fit his normal jacket over it, so he wore that as well, just to feel a bit more comfortable. The rest of the team had similarly inconspicuous outfits for the little trip down to the trading station’s surface. 

“Now, your wings are very recognisable, so you’ll have to keep them down as flat as you can,” Allura said, as she handed out specially made wing-jackets. 

The jackets were completely black, and hugged tight to the wing bone. There was a slip of fabric that went around the joint where the wing met their back to hide the junction. Whatever fabric the jackets had been made from was one that stuck to feathers ridiculously well – half of their wings were hidden by the black fabric, almost like a glove or sleeve. It didn’t feel comfortable to have something clinging to their wings, but it was necessary to keep their wings as covered as possible.

“Now, I know that the jackets won’t completely cover your feathers, but masking the joint makes it harder to tell where they protrude from,” Allura said. She glanced them all over when the wing-jackets were in place, and nodded. “Alright. Ready to go?”

The plan was to get their supplies in two groups. Pidge would take Green down to one end of the trading station, and leave Green behind a ridge of mountains where the Lion would be safe. Hunk and Coran would accompany them, and together all three would tackle one half of the provisions they needed. It was mostly technical supplies, the sort of thing Pidge and Hunk were the most knowledgeable about.

That left Allura, Shiro, Keith and Lance to tackle the food provisions and various other things of non-metal make. As far as Lance was aware, Coran and Hunk had taken inventory of the kitchen while Allura checked the cupboards and other secret hidden functions of the castle. Everything they needed had been jotted down on a data-pad for Allura to carry, though she’d sent the list to the others too, helpfully translated into English. 

Since none of the remaining Lions had cloaking abilities, they’d have to take two shuttle pods down. Lance was sure to helpfully volunteer himself to ride with Allura, complete with a wink and an exaggerated grin. Really, he would have taken anyone but Keith. There was no way he could withstand being crammed into a tiny space with Keith considering Lance was definitely avoiding him now. Thankfully, no one seemed any wiser to his subtle scheming. He had been known to flirt with Allura at every chance, after all, even if she’d insulted his ears.

The shuttle pods were kind of small, and while they could be piloted by one person, Allura had them use the dual-piloting functions for a smoother trip. Fitting into the pod’s seat with his wings was a bit of a struggle, even with his wings pressed flat against his back.

“It’s not too uncomfortable, is it?” Allura asked, as she gave him a look out of the corner of her eyes.

“Not at all,” he said, even though it was.

A quiet moment passed as they eased the pod out of the hangar bays. The trading station was located on a giant hunk of rock, too small to be a planet but too big to be called a meteor or asteroid. From this far away, Lance could see where infrastructure had been built: a crowded mass of buildings fringed out on either side of an elevated, wide road that doubled as a landing strip. At the far end was where aircraft were left, and further beyond that was the mountain ridges where Pidge would be able to safely stash Green.

They were halfway to the planet when Allura spoke again.

“I’ve been looking into a suitable place for you to fly,” she said. “I appreciate your patience with this matter, Lance. I know you must be getting restless by now.”

“Right, yeah.” Lance laughed a little. He hadn’t told Allura that he’d taken to flying around the hangar bays with the Lions. No one needed to know.

“I know it’s not a permanent solution, but I was thinking perhaps we could find a friendly planet to explore,” Allura continued. “Something with enough gravity and a suitable amount of oxygen, so you can fly without the Paladin armour.”

“That sounds good,” Lance said. He hadn’t realised Allura had put so much thought into it – about the armour, and that sort of thing. It was far more pleasant to fly without it on.

Allura smiled, pleased. “I’ll find somewhere soon, then. I hope the others aren’t getting too restless, either. I’ve never had to care for people with wings before. It truly is an interesting learning experience.”

Lance wasn’t sure how much he liked being a learning experience, but he didn’t say anything. He felt guilty about lying, but not guilty enough to start talking. His little trips to the hangar bays were keeping him sane. And he’d started talking to Blue more often, too. He felt like she could understand what he was feeling, and any slight nudge he got from her was more reassuring than anything else he could think of. Blue would never judge him.

“There’s something else I wanted to discuss with you,” Allura started, hesitant, “but I fear I may upset you.”

Lance gave her a puzzled look. Maybe that was why she hadn’t protested at all when he’d all but declared they would be shuttle pod buddies. “I doubt you could ever upset me,” he said, which wasn’t exactly true, but he knew it made her feel better. Allura was trying her best to lead the Paladins and if he could make it easier for her, then he would.

“Well – it’s about Keith, actually.”

Lance frowned, his fingers tightening around the handles of the shuttle pod. Why did everything come back to Keith? “What about him? His mullet finally getting to you, too?”

“What? No, it’s not about Keith’s hair.” Allura let out a deep sigh. “I fear that he and you have had a… falling out, of some sort. You haven’t been bickering as much.”

“I’m confused. Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“In any other circumstance I might have said yes, but this feels different.” Allura’s lips pursed into a thin, worried line. “I’ve come to understand that your bickering is how you two communicate. And lately there’s hardly been any communication at all, let alone silly arguments. I’m…worried, that perhaps something may have happened when you were both stuck in that storm.”

Lance only just managed to hide a flinch. “Nothing happened,” he said. He forced his voice to be as light as possible, and hoped that his confusion masked the tenseness simmering just beneath the surface. If Allura had noticed Lance’s weird behaviour, then had the others? Lance already knew that Hunk was onto him, and Keith already knew that Lance was avoiding him. What if the others knew, too?

A big part of him shrunk away from that possibility.

“Are you avoiding Keith?” Allura asked. “If there’s something I can do, then-”

“I’m not avoiding Keith,” Lance snapped, shrinking into his shoulders. “Why does everyone think I’m avoiding Keith? Can’t a guy just want to be on his own for a little while?”

Allura seemed surprised by his bitter outburst. She blinked at him several times, and then nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry for interfering.”

The deafening silence that followed made Lance feel even worse. “I didn’t mean to snap,” he said, miserable. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Lance,” Allura said. “I just don’t like seeing my friends upset.”

Lance’s stomach twisted. He’d never heard Allura refer to any of the Paladins as her friends before, and it made snapping at her even worse. It wasn’t like she had anything to do with his feelings for Keith. She didn’t even know he felt that way. “I’m just a little stressed,” Lance eventually said. “I miss home.” It wasn’t a lie.

The smile that Allura gave him was weak, but understanding. “I know that feeling well. Don’t worry, Lance. I’ll find somewhere for you to spread your wings.”

 

The planet’s surface could only be described with one word: grimy. They’d landed the shuttle pods at the end of the airstrip and partially hidden them behind a bigger ship that looked like it was made purely from pieces of scrap metal welded together. There was breathable oxygen on the surface, but Lance didn’t know where it came from, or how healthy it actually was. He was suddenly very glad that his wings were as hidden as they were.

He’d no doubt need a very long shower when they returned to the castle.

“It seems like Coran and the others have already headed into the markets,” Allura said, as she tapped away at her data-pad. “We should get moving too. The quicker we get everything, the quicker we can leave.”

Shiro nodded in agreement. “We shouldn’t stay here for any longer than necessary.”

Lance was inclined to agree. The markets were teeming with people of all shapes and sizes. Lance hardly recognised any of the races or species, but he wasn’t dumb enough to realise that none of them had wings like the humans had. This place was sketchy at best, and he didn’t like the feeling of eyes on him. He stuck very close to the group as they descended into the crowded street.

The markets were exactly what one would expect of a vaguely illegal trading post. Hastily constructed stalls and buildings overflowed with produce and wares, some shielded by torn, draped cloths, others locked behind cages or under wire netting. 

Lance peered at the things they passed with a vague sense of unease scraping down his spine. Some of the stalls were street side, constructed on whatever passed for a curb where boxes and carts displayed what was on offer. Other stalls were inside the lower level of the buildings, guarded at the doors by tough looking aliens where the windows were boarded up. He could see coloured smoke curling out of the doorways in some buildings, and others were lit up with a variety of neon signs that made him dizzy to look at. The further they went in, the denser the street became, until he was brushing up against disgruntled strangers with every step.

And falling behind.

“Wait up,” he called, nervous, as Shiro’s tall head briefly disappeared behind an impatient alien who forced their way in between the group of Paladins.

“Lance?” Shiro called.

Out of nowhere, a clawed hand gripped at Lance’s exposed feathers. He jerked, letting out a startled yelp as a loose feather was yanked out.

“What do we have here?” A voice rasped. They sounded like they’d eaten gravel for breakfast, and when Lance turned to face whoever was holding him by the wing, he found someone that looked like gravel, too: rocky, grey, and entirely unpleasant. “This would fetch a pretty price, I’m sure…”

Lance felt sick. He snatched his feather back and immediately regretted it when the gravel-alien’s face twisted into a sneer. The grip on his wing tightened until it was almost unpleasant. “Let me go,” Lance demanded.

“Finders keepers,” the alien growled. There was a lisp in their voice that made Lance feel like grease was sliding across his skin. He couldn’t twist around completely, not without risking damage to his wing bone. A dislocation was not when he needed, but he couldn’t shake free of their grip. His eyes darted back, just for a second, hoping to see Shiro’s tuft of white hair or even Allura’s high bun.

But he didn’t see either.

Until Keith suddenly appeared. “Let him go,” Keith snarled, voice as low and hot as smouldering lava. He had his blade tucked under the alien’s chin, and for a moment, Lance was completely stunned. He hadn’t seen Keith move behind the alien, let alone past Lance himself. There was something so _hot_ about Keith’s face that he felt scorched. And not the good kind of hot, the kind of hot that came from a volcano that was one jolt away from erupting.

A deep part of Lance wouldn’t have minded being burned if that happened.

With a hint of pressure from the knife as Keith’s impatience drew paper-thin, the clawed fingers in Lance’s feathers slowly untangled. When Lance’s wing was free, he wrenched himself away, stumbling over his own feet in his haste. Keith had his hand firm against the alien’s back, and with the pressure from the knife guiding him, he spun them both around, and pushed. The alien fell to the ground in a pathetic sprawl of limbs, knocking down the aggravated people behind him. There was a flurry of aggressive shouts and other noises, but before any of them could get up, Keith had Lance by the waist, and was dragging him through the crowd.

“Keith, wait–” Lance looked over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see Shiro or Allura. His heart was racing and it was only getting worse as Keith’s wing pressed heavy against his back, feathers all puffed up with anger.

“You’re coming with me,” Keith said.

And then they disappeared into a deserted alleyway.


	12. Twelve

The alleyway was dingy. The width between the two hastily built buildings wouldn’t have been enough to even half-spread his wings in, and Lance was immediately made uncomfortable by the small, pressing space. There was something dripping at the other end, and a torn cloth was snapping in an artificial breeze leaking out from one of the boarded windows, and a pile of something definitely unpleasant was stacked precariously against the crumbling wall. It was swarmed with filth and unnameable smells. 

He didn’t want to be there.

But Keith wasn’t giving him a choice in the matter. Keith’s hands were unrelenting as he herded Lance deeper into the alley, away from the prying eyes on the street and the angry aliens jostling with each other for space. Even thinking about trying to weave through the crowd again made Lance’s skin crawl.

“Keith, stop–” Lance tried to pull himself free from Keith’s grip, but Keith had a tight hold on him. He didn’t try very hard, anyway. Keith’s touch felt possessive and Lance shamefully liked it. He could feel the tips of Keith’s fingers digging into his hip, and every few steps had their shoulders bumping. Lance wanted to inch closer, to shrink against Keith and beg for the comfort of his wings, but he didn’t. That wasn’t his place and it never would be. “We have to find the others–”

“Shut up, Lance,” Keith snapped. 

Lance flinched. Keith pushed him against the wall, rough and anxious. The bricks – or whatever was the space-equivalent – rubbed against Lance’s exposed feathers, making him wince. He shifted to accommodate them, but Keith had him pinned.

“Why didn’t you defend yourself?” Keith demanded. “You just let that bastard touch your wings!”

“I tried,” Lance argued. He grabbed at Keith’s hand, the one clasped tight to his shoulder. “He had my feathers–”

The torn feather was still clutched in Keith’s other hand. His grip was tight, but the feather was completely undamaged. Lance didn’t want to let himself believe that Keith was being careful with it.

“You need to protect yourself better,” Keith insisted. His wings were getting ridiculously fluffed up, the definition of ruffled feathers.

Lance didn’t understand what had gotten him so angry. His mind raced, trying to come up with a good enough reason, but all he could think of is what would have happened if Keith hadn’t been there, if Keith hadn’t noticed. Lance had let his guard down, let the overwhelming street consume him, and if he’d been on his own there’s no telling what danger he would have put himself in.

He was just a burden.

A shout at the entry of the alleyway made Lance jump. His eyes darted to the source of the noise, and the sight of several strangers staring at them made him shrink. He enjoyed attention, but not like this. 

Keith’s wings jerked up, shrouding Lance from view. One moment his eyes were fixed on the silhouetted entryway, where noise from the street and the eerie glow of neon signs cast long shadows along the ground. The next it was completely dark. Keith’s onyx feathers pressed against his arms, against his legs and his face and his hair. There was a gentle scent to them, like leather and something natural, something rainy or mossy. It surrounded Lance, washed over his senses, encouraging the tension to drain out of his shoulders.

The strangers left them alone.

Lance had no doubt that Keith’s aggressiveness had everything to do with that.

“We’re going this way,” Keith declared, as he pushed away from the wall. He hadn’t noticed their closeness, or if he had, he made no indication. Instead he curled his wing around Lance, urging him through the alley.

They emerged on the other side. The crowd was significantly thinner, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The lights on this side were dimmer, and glowed a vivid, sensual red. The naked bulbs were attached to the upper corners of buildings and peeking through large, curtained windows. People milled around doorways and behind columns that held up balconies and suspended walkways. 

Lance could feel eyes on him. His head was still spinning, both from his confrontation and from Keith’s strange behaviour. He wanted to crawl into bed and hide away for hours.

“Keith, put your wings away,” Lance hissed, as he eyed the dark doorways. He remembered Allura’s warning and didn’t want to expose them as Paladins. That was the last thing they needed right then.

Scowling, Keith complied. His feathers were too agitated to lay flat against his back, even with his wing-jacket covering the joint. At some point the fabric that covered the upper half of them had slipped up, leaving the majority of his feathers exposed and visible. The absence of those feathers against Lance’s skin made him feel strangely empty, but he ignored that feeling.

Together, the two of them found a hidden alcove to slip into. A stone bench sat pushed against a wall overshadowed by metal sheets bolted to the adjacent building. What looked like corrugated iron half shielded them from view from the street, so they slipped inside. Lance sunk against the bench, glad to be off his feet. Keith paced for several restless moments before forcing himself to sit, too.

“Show me your wing,” he said.

Lance hesitated, but he carefully unfurled his left wing. It was the same one that had been sprained. The place where his feather had been prematurely pulled was visible – the surrounding feathers were sticking up at odd angles, and one of them looked broken. Keith handed Lance back his feather, looking almost reluctant. With his hands free, he carefully set to work righting Lance’s wing, grooming it with so much care it was almost as if he himself had been injured.

“This one is broken,” he eventually murmured.

Lance had suspected as much. “Pull it.”

Keith frowned. “Are you sure?”

“It’s broken, it won’t grow anymore.”

Keith’s fingers smoothed down the surrounding feathers. He wouldn’t look Lance in the eyes. He pinched the stem of the broken feather between his thumb and index finger. “It might hurt.”

“On three, then.” Lance licked his lips. “One–”

A startled yelp left his lips as Keith pulled it free. Removing premature feathers always stung, even more so if the feather was broken. He couldn’t help but jump to his feet and cradle his wing, fidgeting until the sting faded. 

“I said three,” he whined.

Keith handed him the broken feather.

Lance took a seat again. He shoved both feathers into his pocket. A pause settled over them. Neither he nor Keith would look at each other. Lance bit the inside of his cheek. “Thanks,” he muttered. “For helping me. You didn’t have to.”

Keith did look at him then, with a frown nestled in the corners of his lips. “Of course I did. They were touching your wings.”

It was a strange statement to make. While it was normal for people to be protective over their own wings, being protective over someone else’s was a little unusual. If they were lovers, perhaps, then it would be reasonable. Even if they were best friends or siblings. But he and Keith weren’t any of that. They were teammates, sure, and Lance would admit their rivalry had turned into some sort of teasing friendship, but Keith’s actions were far beyond that.

As if realising what he’d said was unusual, Keith abruptly turned away, his wings stiffening. “Well, you’d do it for me,” he grumbled.

Lance blinked at him, surprised. _Would_ he do the same for Keith?

Of course he would.

Just thinking about some alien making a grab for Keith’s wings had him angry. On Earth it was impolite and bad-mannered to touch someone’s wings without permission, but it was stupid to think the same social rules would apply in space. It feathers like theirs were unseen or rare, then it stood to believe that bad people would want them for bad reasons.

And if Lance saw someone tearing out Keith’s handsome feathers… he didn’t know what he’d do.

“Yeah, I guess I would,” he admitted.

Keith’s head jerked back around to look at him. He blinked owlishly. The wedge of red light from the street that fell across half his face made his eyes incredibly violet.

“What?” Lance asked, flustered.

“Nothing,” Keith said. His eyes darted away. Slowly, his feathers flattened, and his wings lost their aggravated tension. “Does your wing hurt?”

“No.” Lance shook his head. He thought that he might gain a bruise or two where his feathers were pulled, but that was nothing he couldn’t handle. It could have been much, much worse if Keith hadn’t stepped in. “You were really heroic back there, huh?”

Keith’s ears went red. “No.”

A slow grin crossed Lance’s face. “You were,” he insisted, as he nudged Keith with his elbow. “Like a knight in shining armour.”

“I’m not even wearing my armour.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Just accept my thanks, mullet.”

Keith cracked a small smile. It was the kind of smile a person had when they didn’t realise they were smiling, and Lance was instantly captivated. Keith had a handsome face and anyone with two eyes would be able to see that, but there was something so soft about his smile that always caught Lance off guard. Keith was usually hard lines; thin lips and downturned brows and an angular jaw. Smiling softened his edges, even if the smile was a teasing smirk or a battle-fuelled grin.

He would’ve liked to see Keith smile more.

A beeping from the tablet in his pocket made him jump – Keith’s beeped, too. Keith managed to find his before Lance did, so they both leaned across the glowing screen. 

“It’s from Allura,” Keith said. He flicked his fingertips across the screen as he scanned the message, before typing out a quick reply. “She wants to know what happened.”

Lance read the message Keith typed over his shoulder. Keith wasn’t a very communicative person, so his message was short and simple, only a handful of words to state that they’d been separated in the crowd and were okay. Allura’s reply came in within moments – she wanted them to tackle a few things on the list, and then head back to the shuttle pods. If they arrived before Allura and Shiro did, then they were to take the pod back to the castle straight away.

A shadow passed over the alcove’s entrance. Keith’s wings were up and flared in an instant, pressing Lance back so far he almost tipped off the seat. 

“Okay, okay, that’s going to get old fast,” Lance said, as he put his hands on Keith’s wings to nudge them down again. Only when the people outside had moved on did Keith fold them back in again. 

His famous scowl had returned.

“What do we need to find?” Lance asked, as Keith tucked the tablet away.

“Just a box of roots and some sort of mineral,” Keith said. “They’ve already purchased the box, so we just need to pick it up. She sent a picture of the mineral, too.”

“Okay.” Lance stood, and rolled his shoulders back. They were starting to ache. “Let’s get going, then. I want to get back to the castle as soon as possible.”

He peered out of the alcove, and was pleased to find the street still mostly empty. Red light fell across his face; it had a strange effect on the feathers left exposed by his wing-jacket, turning them a warm, shiny brown. When he looked around, he could see people in other alcoves or mingling around buildings, but no one was paying attention to anyone outside of their companions. When he turned back to Keith to tell him the coast was clear, he found Keith watching him.

There was a strange, soft look on his face, one that had made the scowl half fall away. 

“Come on then,” he said, teasing, as he held out his hand. “Can’t go mineral hunting without my knight in shining armour, can I?”

It was probably the red light playing tricks on his eyes, but Keith suddenly looked redder himself. He took Lance’s hand to help himself up, but didn’t hold onto it like Lance had hoped he would. “Right,” Keith murmured.

Maybe Lance had taken it too far with the teasing? He bit the inside of his cheek again as nervousness swelled in him. He’d almost forgotten that he had a big unrequited crush on Keith. The only reason they were stuck together now was because Lance had needed saving when he should have been capable on his own. Some defender of the universe he was.

“Just stay close to me, okay?” Keith said. His wings were twitching, like he wanted to spread them, but they couldn’t here. Maybe he was missing a place to fly around in, just like Lance was. “It won’t be good if either one of us get into trouble.”

“Right, yeah.” Lance nodded in agreement. “Stay close. Got it.”

If only he wanted to stay close to Keith just for safety reasons.

In his heart, he knew it was more than that.


	13. Thirteen

Finding the box of space food wasn’t that difficult. Allura sent them both the location of the stall through their tablets – it was on the other street, the one they’d begun on. Lance wasn’t all too thrilled about being forced back into the harrowing crowds, but this time he was determined to stick close to his teammates. Well, teammate. 

Thankfully, Keith refused to let Lance out of his sights, too.

Which, in hindsight, was probably not the best thing for Lance’s fragile heart. 

The stall with their purchased order was one of the more decent looking ones. They ducked under thin strips of hanging fabric detailed with the company’s logo, something so alien that Lance didn’t even try to decode it. The stands inside displayed goods sat neatly on hastily constructed tables made from metal welded together with large bolts and nuts. 

Lance was completely enamoured by the little charms hanging by wire from the ceiling. Some were made from twisted metal, others moulded from coloured glass. He didn’t know what they were exactly, but they looked like wind chimes, or decorative baubles. He could almost picture them hanging from someone’s Christmas tree, or from the review mirror of a car, or worn as a necklace. Maybe they were just whatever someone wanted them to be.

His curiosity sated, Lance turned back to the stall owner. The alien was handing over a box of packaged food to Keith, who passed it over to Lance. “Go wait outside, I just need to check something,” Keith said.

Shrugging, Lance complied. The box wasn’t too heavy, and there were little grooves in the bottom edge that his fingers fit into with ease, so he didn’t have trouble lifting it. He knew that after a while its weight would tire his arms, but for the time being he was fine. While he waited just outside the curtains, he had a peek around in the box, wondering what Allura had purchased from the stall. It was mostly food, things like roots and something vaguely fruit-like and a stack of something that could have been bread but probably wasn’t.

Keith re-emerged a moment later, absentmindedly tucking something into his pocket before Lance could see what it was. He assumed it was some sort of knife, though. Keith tended to have a thing for sharp objects.

“Where to now?” He asked.

Keith checked his tablet. “Allura said the mineral we need should look like this.” He turned the screen towards Lance. Attached to Allura’s message was an image of what could passably be called a chunk of worthless rock. Lance repressed a scoff, wandering what a clump of hard dirt could be worth, but he stopped, and squinted at the image. Peeking through the cracks in the rock was definitely something blue and glowing, even if it was terribly faded.

“So we’re looking for a rock,” he summarised. “One that glows when it’s cracked open.”

“I guess.” Keith tucked his tablet away. 

“Well, it can’t be too hard to find.” He hoped.

Keith only shrugged at him. He took the lead as they plunged back into the overcrowded street. It was harder to stay close to Keith with the box in the way. As they walked, the crowd became tighter on both sides, and one of them would end up behind the other. Lance wished that Keith would wrap his wing around him again, but then berated himself for wanting that. He wasn’t a damsel. One grab at his wings wasn’t going to make him wary of every alien that came too close to his exposed feathers.

For the most part, Keith walked behind him. It was easier that way, because the box’s corners didn’t dig into anyone’s sides, and secretly, Lance knew that no one could yank out his feathers if Keith was watching him like a hawk. 

Finding the mineral proved to be difficult. They weaved in between stalls and peered through windows, trying to locate anything even remotely like the image Allura had sent them. Lance had no idea what it did for the castle, but it was probably important, and it was the only thing they’d been tasked with finding, so they couldn’t leave without it.

“This is ridiculous,” Lance groused, as they managed to squeeze themselves into an alcove between buildings. He pressed his back against the wall and set the box down, anxiously rolling his shoulders. “We haven’t seen anything like that damn rock.”

Keith was frowning, like usual. He brought up the image to have another look, but only seemed to grow more irritated, and set it away again. His feathers were straining at his wing-jacket, all puffed up and agitated. Lance was getting a little concerned that the fabric was going to just snap off completely if Keith didn’t cool it.

After a moment of tense silence, Lance picked the box back up, and nudged his elbow against Keith’s side, offering him a small smile. “Come on, let’s get looking again. As soon as we find the mineral, we can leave.”

He received a strange, open look from Keith, who eventually nodded, a bit more relaxed.

They waded back out into the crowd. Keith’s hostile broodiness seemed to be enough to give them a little space, at least for a short while. The only thing keeping Lance going was the thought of returning straight to his bed when they got back to the castle. He’d deal with maintaining his wings in the morning. Right then, he wanted nothing more than to sleep for several uninterrupted hours.

Eventually, they did find what they were looking for. The mineral stall was tucked away in between two larger, noisier stalls that diverted eyes rather than drew them. Keith only just spotted the mineral, and if he hadn’t, they would have walked right past it. Keith grabbed him by the elbow, his fingers curling into Lance’s skin as he made a path for the both of them through the crowd.

The mineral was even less impressive in person, if they were possible. Lance hung back behind Keith, watching as he scanned the stall’s displays, looking for exactly what they wanted. A lot of the offered merchandise looked startlingly similar. Little cartons and strays held a variety of cut and uncut stones, some as pretty as gold, others as boring as lump of bedrock. Their desired mineral was leaning more towards the bedrock side of things.

Keith did all the bartering with the alien, and once they’d settled on a price, he was handed the minerals in a sealable metal box. 

As soon as he had it, they were out of there.

 

Predictably, they were the first ones back to the shuttle pods. Nothing had been touched, as far as Lance could tell. While Keith loaded the pod he sent off a quick message to the others, warning them that they were going to head back to the castle as instructed. 

“They say anything?” Keith asked, as he secured the metal box in place so that it wouldn’t slide around when they flew the pod.

“Nothing important,” he said. He groaned as he stretched his arms up above his head, listening to his bones crack. It had been hard to tell when he was so distracted by the crowd, but he’d had his wings pressed up real tight against his back, and it had left him cramped. He would have loved one of his father’s massages right then.

Keith was watching him, his face impossible to read. He waited for Lance’s wings to settle before climbing up into the shuttle pod. “Let’s go.”

Lance wasn’t going to complain at that. Not even the thought of being stuck in the tiny space pod with Keith was enough to deter him from clambering in. Expectedly, the space was rather tight. Keith’s wings weren’t small by any means, and now that he didn’t have to leave them flat, he wasn’t. They weren’t spread, but their size was enough to brush against Lance’s own wings with every movement they made as the shuttle pod ascended, and it gave him a lot of mixed feelings.

He tried not to concentrate on it. If he thought too much, then he was sure he could still feel the phantom warmth of Keith’s wings around him. What had made Keith do that, anyway? What made him so protective that he risked exposing his wings to help Lance? It was hard to understand. Impossible, actually. Lance wasn’t worth that much.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure they were friends. Sure, he and Keith got along way better now, and Lance enjoyed spending time with him. But was it the same for Keith? There was no way for him to know if Keith thought he was any less annoying than he had been when they first met. Though, surely Keith would avoid Lance, or be more argumentative at the very least, if he didn’t like him. So, at minimum, they must be friends.

That revelation wasn’t very satisfying. Lance spent a moment trying to figure out why his stomach was suddenly twisting itself into knots, and he flushed when he realised it was because he wanted more. Just friends? Not good enough. His traitorous little heart wanted Keith’s undivided attention.

But it wasn’t like he could have that.

“Lance? Are you even listening to me?”

Could he have that?

“What?” He asked, distracted, as he glanced at Keith, who was frowning at him.

“I said we’re almost back, and we need to load the pod into the hangers.” Keith’s frown deepened. His wings were suddenly very ruffled, and shifted restlessly against his back, so much so that Lance feared their feathers would tangle. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He definitely wasn’t fine. “Just tired.” But he was very tired.

Keith clearly didn’t believe him, but he didn’t push the issue. In complete and utter silence, they docked the shuttle pod, and unloaded the supplies, leaving everything on a crate by the hanger bay doors where Coran could take them to wherever they needed to go. The castle was silent, save for the inquisitive squeaks the mice made when he and Keith ventured into the common room.

With that done, Lance set to getting the wing-jacket off. It suddenly felt too tight, and he wanted it gone. He had to strip off his outer jacket first, which he threw across the back of the couch. Wing-jackets didn’t usually loop around the joint of the wing like these ones did, instead running flat across the wing bone, so it was difficult to get off. He ended up chasing after his wing in an entire circle before letting out a frustrated groan.

“Can you help me?” He demanded.

Keith was watching him with an infuriatingly amused look, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He’d mange to get out of his wing-jacket already, and had taken off his outer jacket, too, leaving him in pants and his normal black shirt. “Turn around,” he said.

“Don’t laugh,” Lance warned him, “or I’ll clock you in the face again.”

Keith snorted.

The sound made Lance smile and duck his head.

Keith’s fingers carefully pulled at the wing-jacket until it smoothly slid off Lance’s feathers. It struck him then, that this was a rather intimate thing to do for a person. Even if what he’d asked Keith to do was necessary, as Lance couldn’t do it himself, he’d still asked Keith to take his clothes off. 

If Keith noticed the way his ears and neck abruptly went bright red, he said nothing.

With the wing-jacket finally off, Lance gave his wings a long stretch and a few creaking flaps before throwing himself down on the large couch. He tucked his wings comfortably against his back and folded his arms to rest his cheek on. “When do you think the others will be back?”

Keith took a seat on the edge of the couch beside Lance, his elbows resting casually on his knees. “Soon, probably.”

“Think there’s enough time to nap?”

“Probably.”

“I’m going to nap then,” Lance sighed. He closed his eyes, not entirely because he was tired (but entirely because Keith’s ass and his stupidly fluffy wings were less than a thirty centimetres away from his face). Lance had the strange and embarrassing thought that with his back to him, Keith could definitely spread his wings out like a blanket. If he turned around a little to face Lance and laid down, then they’d definitely be cuddling, and Keith’s wings would definitely end up tangled with Lance’s. There was more than enough room on the wide couches for the both of them.

He’d completely forgotten about the fact that he was meant to be avoiding Keith.

He didn’t know if he could anymore.

“Wake me up when they get here,” he murmured into the crook of his arms.

Keith only hummed. He leaned back a little, making himself more comfortable. Lance cracked an eye open and found Keith watching him, but he was too tired to think about how strange and soft Keith’s expression had turned.

He really wished Keith had laid down next to him.


	14. Fourteen

It was a while before anyone returned to the castle. Lance dozed on an off, unable to completely sink into sleep. As comfortable as the couches were, Lance much preferred a bed and pillows for sleeping. Pyjamas, too.

At least he had Keith for company. Any time he’d fitfully wake, Keith would start talking, just quietly. It was mostly about training, or the Lions, or the mission. He didn’t seem to want to talk about anything that was particularly meaningful, or anything that would provoke a response. His voice lulled Lance in and out of sleep with ease.

Allura and Shiro arrive about an hour after they had. They’d unloaded all of their newly acquired supplies in the hangar bays, something which Lance only vaguely heard them say when Keith asked. Allura handed out water packets while they waited for the others to return. Keith left Lance’s resting beside his head, because he was still half-asleep when Allura tried to hand it to him.

It was less than half an hour later when Coran, Pidge, and Hunk returned. Lance forced himself to sit up when the debriefing began, knowing that he’d have to hear it at some point. He rubbed his eyes and drank as much water as he could stomach so that he’d be awake enough for the debriefing.

As far as the mission was concerned, it had been a success. They’d stocked up on all the supplies needed, and even over-stocked on food supplies, which was good. Lance wasn’t certain how the Castle worked, and while it did produce its own food – the green goo – it didn’t have a never ending supply. Besides, the Paladins could only deal with so much food goo before they became desperate for anything else.

“We’ll be leaving this system shortly, so I suggest we all get some rest,” Allura said. “A day of relaxation is well deserved.”

That sounded beyond perfect to Lance. As long as no Galra ships suddenly showed up, they’d be fine to have a day to themselves. No training, no fighting, no nothing. 

“Oh, but I wish to speak to you before you go, Lance,” Allura said. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

He tried not to groan, and gave the Princess a weak smile. “Sure thing.”

Allura waited until all the others had filed from the room before sitting beside him. Her eyes were worried. “How are you feeling, Lance?” She asked, as she scanned his face for any sign of discomfort. “I was concerned when our team became separated.”

Lance blinked, surprised by her question. He hadn’t even thought about it. “I’m okay,” he said. “I had Keith with me.”

Allura smiled. There was something in the slight upturn of her lips that had Lance feeling oddly flustered, not because she was beautiful (even though she was most definitely was) but because that smile was hiding something he didn’t want to think about, let alone anyone else to know (namely, his endless attraction to Keith).

“I’m relieved that he noticed,” she said. “It was hard to keep track of everyone in that crowd. Are your wings alright?”

At the mention of them, Lance couldn’t help but fluff up his feathers. He definitely needed a shower and a nice grooming session, but for the most part, they were unscathed. “The wing-jackets helped a lot,” Lance said, as he gave his wings a tentative flutter, “so they’re fine.”

Allura nodded. “Good, I’m glad.”

Lance gave her a small smile. He knew that Allura didn’t always understand the importance of the wings each Paladin carried on their back, but she did understand that they were _important,_ and that was basically the same thing. Her concern and desire for their wellbeing meant the entire universe to him.

Assured that Lance was alright, Allura let him go. As much as Lance liked spending time with her, he was more than glad to escape the common room, hoping for a straight, uninterrupted path to bed.

 

When Lance was deep asleep, there was little that could wake him. He didn’t generally enjoy mornings, especially not the rise-before-the-sun mornings the Garrison demanded. Beauty sleep was precious and he would have liked to get as much of it as he could. That meant early nights if early mornings were to be had. Space did little to change that attitude of his.

But it had made him more aware of his surroundings.

Getting used to the noises of the Castle hadn’t been the easiest thing to do. There was a constant, buzzing hum, one that was low and permanent, reverberating through the walls. Lance grew to dislike it pretty quickly when it came to sleep. That was why he wore headphones, to drone out that frustrating little hum. It was the only way he could sleep, unless he was so tired he fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

That was one of those nights. As such, noise outside his room drew his attention, rousing him instantly. Had he been in the Garrison dormitories, or even home on Earth, he doubted the footsteps would have been enough to wake him. In space, however, they were.

He lifted his head as he tried to figure out whether he’d dreamed up the noise or not. That happened sometimes, but this time wasn’t like that. 

A knock on his door startled him.

“Lance? Are you awake?”

He rubbed at his eyes, and pushed himself upright, hair and feathers tousled by sleep. That was definitely Keith.

Sure enough, when he stumbled over to the door all tangled up in his sheets, Keith was standing on the other side. He was barefooted, wearing nothing more than a loose black shirt and dark pyjama pants, very different to the soft blue shirt and slim pants Lance wore to bed. He looked even grumpier than usual, and had his arms crossed over his chest. His wings were stiff and flush against his back.

“Keith? What’s up?” Lance croaked. He cleared his throat to chase away the annoying hoarseness that came from sleep. “Little late, isn’t it?”

If it were possible, Keith stiffened even more, looking about two sentences away from exploding. In the past, Lance might have baited him. Sometimes letting off some steam like that was a good thing. Now, however, he felt a genuine twinge of concern, one he couldn’t ignore. 

Lance stepped out of the doorway, offering entrance. “Want to come in? You’ll wake everyone up if you stand out there.”

Wordlessly, Keith slipped inside. His bare feet made tiny noises against the cold ground. For some reason, the sound caught Lance’s attention. Keith was usually pretty light on his feet, often silent as he rolled and ducked and leapt out of the way of the training droids. Other times he was loud, like when he was running at top speeds without care for secrecy, or when he needed to put some weight behind a swing of his sword. He’d never been in between, like he was now. Was it possible for footsteps to sound vulnerable? Or cute, for that matter?

Lance stretched his arms above his head, groaning. Exhaustion pulled at his bones like an anchor tied to his ankles, begging him for more rest. He spread his wings wide, flapping them to stretch them out before letting them furl against his back. When he took a seat on the edge of the bed, fixing the blanket as he did, he found Keith watching him, eyes burning. There was a puzzled frown on his face.

“Why are you awake at this time of night?” Lance asked.

Keith startled, as if he hadn’t realised he’d been staring. His gaze abruptly jerked away.

Lance sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to do. He knew Keith well enough to understand what was going on. If not that, then he knew what Keith’s behaviour meant, only because he’d done the same thing himself a dozen times. There was something bothering Keith, but he didn’t want to say what it was. That meant that whatever it happened to be was probably something bad, or something he thought Lance would help with.

Actually getting him to talk about whatever was bothering him was the hard part.

A yawn struggled to form in Lance’s throat, one big enough to make him feel like his jaw was unhinged. He shifted over on the bed and patted it several times. “Sit down, at least.”

Keith complied. He lifted the tail end of the blanket off the floor and propped one knee up, his foot curved over the edge of the mattress.

Lance couldn’t remember a time he’d ever seen Keith’s feet bare. He’d never thought about all the parts of Keith he hadn’t seen, but now that he _was_ thinking about it, there was a steadily growing list in his head. Keith’s feet weren’t bad, as far as feet went. Lance was more interested in his ankles, and the muscled legs said ankles went to. He’d never really paid attention to Keith’s legs before, and the only time they were ever bare was when everyone showered, but it wasn’t like Lance had sought Keith out. His mind could only recall images of Keith in pants.

Which wasn’t exactly what he was meant to be thinking about.

But he was thinking about it. He’d seen Keith’s back before – being shirtless wasn’t exactly an uncommon thing when one showered and groomed their wings, even if he’d never seen Keith do the latter to himself. He certainly hadn’t paid attention, though. Unbidden, his eyes darted to Keith’s wrists. They weren’t slender, but the skin looked soft and smooth. He was overcome by an urge to rub his thumb across that plane of skin. 

There were dozens of unexplored places on Keith’s body. The nape of his neck, the place beneath where his wings met his back, the dip in his waist where abdominal muscles smoothed away into the lines of his pelvic bone…

He forced the thoughts away. They were like flittering moths, all trying valiantly to withstand the pull of the flame, wholly unsuccessful. He curled his fingers into his palms until he could feel his nails bite his skin.

Maybe he was only trapped by those taunting thoughts because he was tired, and because Keith had come to him in the middle of the night and was offering no explanation as to why. His mind was running wild without any truth to hold onto.

And he was so, so tired.

“Well, if you don’t want to talk, then at least sleep,” he finally said. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but Lance was. He only had himself to blame for that.

“Can I stay here?” Keith asked.

The question made Lance flinch, even though he’d all but offered. Keith was seeking confirmation, watching Lance out of the corner of his eyes. Lance’s heart twinged. Maybe he wasn’t the only one insecure about whatever was forming between the two of them.

But he thought he might sleep better if he knew Keith was close. Not because he liked Keith, even though that was a part of it, but because Keith was upset about something, and didn’t want to be alone. He wouldn’t have come to Lance if he thought he could solve his problem on his own, or with the help of one of the others. That was something Lance was completely sure of.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Lance said. He pulled his legs up onto the bed and reached for one of his pillows. He’d gotten a second one from one of the storage cupboards because he preferred to sleep with two, but he could deal with one for a single night. He tossed it at Keith and eased himself down on his side, wings curled comfortably close to his back. The beds that Allura assigned them were big enough for one winged Paladin, but were a bit of a tight squeeze for two. He was sure they’d manage.

Keith propped his pillow up at the other end of the bed, and laid down on his back, stiff and tense. He put one arm behind his head, and still had one leg propped up, the other left dangling over the edge. He looked comfortable for the most part, even if he was lying on his wings, and only had Lance’s feet for company.

It wasn’t difficult to drift off, not like Lance thought it would be. Keith’s gentle, even breathing drowned out the hum of the Castle, and the weight of him dipping the mattress was strangely comforting. It was much warmer in the bed with two people, even if Lance was the only one with the blankets tangled over his legs. Sleep made his body lax, his wings sinking and shifting into a more comfortable position. One was pressed flat against the cool wall behind him, the other ruffling and rustling until he had it over his curled up legs and his waist like a blanket. He was soothed by the feel of his feathers against the exposed strip of skin where his shirt had ridden up.

“Lance?”

“Hmm?” He didn’t open his eyes, too close to sleep to do anything other than hum and obligingly tilt his head in Keith’s direction. He could tell that Keith’s breathing had slowed, that he’d started to shift and settle too, as exhaustion took over him.

“Thanks,” Keith whispered, so quiet that Lance almost didn’t catch the weak syllables. “For not turning me away, I mean. And not- and not asking about it.”

He hummed again, and turned his face into his pillow. The end of one of Keith’s wings brushed up against his leg. “It’s fine,” he mumbled, as sleep pulled his mind away. “We make a good team.”


	15. Fifteen

A little part of Lance expected to wake up with Keith still in his bed the next day. At some point during the early morning, he’d woken, and found Keith sound asleep at the other end of the bed. Lance hadn’t been completely conscious himself, but he remembered thinking that it was nice to see Keith so relaxed and comfortable. He’d twisted onto his back, and had one wing curled over Lance’s legs.

When he did wake up, Keith wasn’t there. The bed was cold, so he must have woken up before Lance. He wouldn’t say he was disappointed, except for the fact that he definitely was. It wasn’t like he had anything planned – and really, what was he thinking they would do? Exit his room together, go to breakfast together, explain to everyone that they’d slept together? No, he didn’t want that. Maybe it was for the best that Keith had disappeared before Lance had woken up.

It still made him feel… bad. His stomach sunk every time his mind strayed to Keith while he got dressed that morning. He still didn’t know why Keith had come to him in the first place, and now that Keith had fled from that possible conversation, Lance had no easy way to bring it up. He knew better than anyone how dumb it was to leave things bottled up inside, even when it felt like there was no other choice. 

He’d just have to make himself Keith’s other choice.

Breakfast was a painfully normal affair. Lance couldn’t help but peek at Keith out of the corner of his eyes, when he was sure no one was watching. It was almost like nothing had happened, but Lance didn’t want nothing to have happened. He didn’t just share his bed with anyone.

True to her word, Allura let them have a day off. Lance was eager to groom his wings, so he stole away to the bathroom while everyone else was busy. He wanted the large mirror all to himself.

It was nice to have as long as he wanted to wash his wings. The shower stalls were large enough to give him a decent bit of room, even if he could only spread one wing at a time. The Castle had unlimited hot water, and while Lance was cautious about not wasting too much, it was great not to have to worry about the water suddenly running cold. 

He made sure to liberally condition his feathers while he luxuriated in the shower. They’d recovered well from all the damage they’d taken recently, and he was relieved to see their softness and sheen return. It was easy to lose his thoughts when grooming, like there was nothing more important than making sure his feathers were as beautiful as they could possibly be. 

While he spread is wings in front of the mirror, he set about rearranging his feathers and smoothing down any errant ones that had cropped up during his shower. He refrained from plucking any, too fearful of his wings becoming splotchy or patchy or bare. There was some loose, downy fluff right at the place where feathers met the actual wing, so he took care to brush away any feathers that would otherwise get tangled in the fully-grown ones. Down wasn’t uncommon among adults, but it was definitely like having leftover baby fat.

As a kid, he’d had super downy wings. His mother had dozens of photos of him covered in his own fluff. His childhood down feathers had been a much lighter colour than his adult feathers – a soft creamy brown, like the colour of milky coffee, perhaps even lighter. Sometimes he’d wake up covered in loose fluff, and his parents would spent a few quiet moments each morning grooming him, gently bringing him into wakefulness. Lance only had the vaguest memories of that, ones that felt more like dreams, but he wasn’t upset that he still had down. It made his wings softer.

When his wings were all groomed, he carefully patted the damp feathers dry with a towel, and dressed. He felt much better now that his wings looked presentable. All of his drama with Keith – which wasn’t really drama, but Lance had a flair for the dramatics – had taken his mind off how much he’d disliked them. 

He hoped that spell of loathing didn’t start creeping back in any time soon. 

 

As much as Lance wanted to talk to Keith, he didn’t have a chance to. The day of relaxation passed quicker than Lance liked, and then they were diving headfirst into Voltron missions. 

A distress beacon came from a nearby moon the next day, and Voltron spent hours infiltrating the base to rid it of Galra soldiers. Everyone was exhausted by the time the moon’s inhabitants – a relatively small population that lived underground, sort of like the Balmeran people – were free, and only a few hours of sleep could be afforded before the alarm was suddenly going off again. 

It was hard to keep up with, but Lance soldiered on. If exhaustion was the price he had to pay so that entire colonies of people were safe, then he’d pay it over and over again. No one deserved to live crushed under the thumb of the Galra. 

A week after their supply run to the trading station finally saw them finally having another proper night’s rest. As soon as their Lions were docked in the hangar bays, Lance was rushing for a shower, eager to get the sweat and grime off of his skin. Battles always made him feel filthy. Sweat gathered beneath his suit and under his helmet, making him itch where he really didn’t want to itch. A shower, a quick conditioning of his wings, and a fluffy towel later and he was feeling much better.

Allura left the debriefing for the next day, allowing the Paladins to head straight to bed after their showers. Not for the first time, Lance was the first one to head to bed. His room was a mess from when he’d jerked out of bed the previous day, startled awake by the sound of the alarm going off. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he had to at least fix the sheets first.

He didn’t wear his headphones or his eye mask that night. He was tired enough to drop into sleep straight away, the low hum of the Castle completely forgotten. No dreams came to him that night, and he was sure it would have been that way all the way to morning had a knock on his door not woken him.

Unsurprisingly, it was Keith. Lance blinked at him several times, trying to tell if he were dreaming or not. Everything in him ached and protested at standing, especially after all the work he’d done the day before, so he eventually decided that it didn’t matter if this was a dream or not. He stepped aside, knowing Keith would follow him in without an explicit invitation.

After tossing a pillow to the end of the bed, he laid back down facing the wall, and curled his legs up to his chest. There was more than enough room for Keith to stretch out next to him, which he tentatively did, after realising Lance wasn’t in the mood to question his weird, night time expeditions. Just before he’d slipped off to sleep, Lance had thought that perhaps this time he’d wake up before Keith, and they could actually talk about what was bothering him so much.

That wasn’t the case.

For the second time, he woke up to a cold, Keith-less bed. Had one of his pillows not been at the other end of the mattress, he might have really believed that he’d dreamed it all. But the space where Keith had previously occupied was evident. Lance was frustrated by his disappearing act. And alright, maybe he’d been hoping to wake up to Keith’s wings draped over his legs again, like he had the first time. Any form of contact would have been preferable to absolutely nothing.

He hated thinking that he was so weak. He wanted Keith’s attention, and feeling like he was being given it when Keith showed up at his door only to have it taken away when he woke up alone was doing stupid, pitiful things to his lonely heart. He couldn’t help but think about what it’d be like if Keith actually stayed in bed with him, and what it’d be like if he slept the same way as Lance, not head-to-toe.

Absentmindedly, Lance rolled onto his bed, and spread out arm out to gauge the size of the mattress. They’d certainly fit, with a bit of careful wing placement. From what he could tell, Keith didn’t move much when he slept, because he never woke or disturbed Lance. He’d probably want to sleep on the edge, not pressed against the wall. Lance thought that being against the wall might make Keith feel trapped, or unprepared to jump up at a moment’s notice.

When it came down to it, Lance had never really given much thought about what it’d be like to share a bed with someone. Of course he’d had girlfriends before, but it was the sort of youthful relationship that last a maximum of two weeks and consisted of nothing more than being able to say “I have a girlfriend” should anyone ask. It meant nothing.

Keith didn’t mean nothing to him.

Groaning, he rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. When exactly had his crush on Keith become something more? He didn’t even know what name to give to his feelings. It wasn’t love, because he didn’t think he could love anyone he didn’t know intimately – and not in the physical sense, but in an emotional sense. But it was something so close to love that he was a little frightened by it.

He’d have to sort out this bed-sharing business. One problem at a time, right? The bed-sharing one felt like something he could solve with a well-timed conversation and maybe a few extra pillows. 

Standing, Lance made his way out of his room and to the closest storage cupboard. There was no doubt in his mind that Keith would return eventually. One time would be fluke, but twice? Twice meant that there was probably more to come. He wasn’t opposed to that, but extra bedding was certainly needed. He really did prefer sleeping with two pillows.

“Lance?”

He jumped at the voice, and yelped when he hit the top of his head on the shelf he was buried in. “Give me some warning next time,” he complained, as he straightened, two pillows clutched tightly in his arms.

Hunk laughed quietly. “Sorry, sorry. What are you doing in the cupboard?”

Lance gestured vaguely at the pillows.

“Oh, right. You need more pillows?”

Come to think of it, maybe it was a little suspicious to be taking more bedding. Back at home, that usually meant the bedding currently on one’s bed was no longer clean enough to be used. Lance had heard horror stories of boys needing to learn how to do the laundry once puberty hit. 

What if Hunk suspected that he was getting more bedding because someone else was sleeping in his room? Was that even a logical solution? Lance felt so exposed that he couldn’t even tell anymore.

“Yeah, I’m just… trying to keep my wings from cramping,” he said. “I keep rolling onto my back at night.”

An understanding look flickered across Hunk’s face. He rolled his big wings back. “Cramps are the worst.”

Lance nodded. Hunk was still in his yellow pyjamas, and he wasn’t wearing his headband, so Lance assumed he’d just woken up, too. “On your way to breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Hunk paused. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you as well. We haven’t had much time to hang out lately.”

He wasn’t wrong. Lance felt a pang of something like homesickness go through him. He’d always confided in Hunk, always trusted Hunk to keep his secrets. He missed spending time with his best friend.

“You’ve been a bit… distant lately,” Hunk said, frowning. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m okay,” Lance said, as he adjusted his grip on the pillows. The urge to spill his thoughts to Hunk was building up, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he was hiding anything from Hunk in the first place. What had changed to make him want to keep his feelings a secret?

But he knew the answer to that. Lance had had countless crushes on people before, had lamented the overwhelming beauty of both boys and girls to Hunk a dozen times. This was different because it wasn’t a crush anymore. And it wasn’t just some boy or girl he had no shot with. It was Keith.

That really changed things.

He glanced down the hallway, and finding it empty, he lifted his gaze to meet Hunk’s. “Actually, can we talk later? I have something I want to tell you.”

Hunk seemed surprised, but relieved, too. “Of course, man. What’s it about?”

Lance hesitated. “It’s about Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be unexpected cuddling... eventually. Maybe third time's the charm hehe
> 
> I have my last exam for the session tomorrow, so I didn't have a lot of time to devote to this chapter. I'll make up for it with extra fluff in the next one! ❤


	16. Sixteen

Hunk was too eager to talk. Lance felt exposed any time someone sent either one of them a strange, questioning look. He’d promised Hunk that they’d talk later in the day, when no one would need to bother them for anything. When they’d be alone. If he was going to spill his guts, then he was damn well going to do it in complete privacy.

Fortunately, they did find themselves some time to talk. It was between breakfast and dinner, when Pidge escaped down into the labs and Keith and Shiro went to spar and Coran and Allura were in the command room, discussing strategies or whatever the Alteans normally did. That left Hunk and Lance in the kitchens, given privacy by sealed doors that would hiss open if anyone wanted to enter.

It was hard to bring up what he wanted to talk about. He knew that Hunk wanted to ask him about it, but was nervous about scaring Lance off, like a startled rabbit. Now that he thought about it, Lance didn’t even know what he wanted to say. In the end, it was probably best if he just came out with it, right?

“So, Keith’s been sleeping in my room lately,” he said.

Hunk almost dropped the hot tray in his hands. “What?”

Lance winced, and tried to laugh a little. “Only twice, so far.”

Hunk still looked dumbstruck. “Keith. In your room. Sleeping.”

“Yes, Hunk.”

“As in, on the floor?”

“No, in my bed.”

“You’ve been sleeping on the floor?” Hunk asked, incredulous.

“No, in the bed, too.”

Hunk gawked at him. He set the tray down on the bench and pulled off his oven mitts. “Let me get this straight,” he said, frowning to himself. “Keith has been sleeping in your bed. With you.”

“Only twice,” Lance insisted, flustered. He pressed his hands between his knees to keep from fidgeting, glad that he’d taken a seat on the bench. If he hadn’t, he would definitely be pacing. 

“Why, though?”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know.” Lance leaned forwards, thinking. “He doesn’t say much, just asks to stay.”

“What about in the morning?”

“He always leaves before I wake up.” Lance sighed, and leaned back on his hands. Hunk was easy to talk to like this, he always knew what questions to ask. That was probably because they’d known each other for so long. 

“Maybe he’s not sleeping well?” Hunk suggested. “Sometimes I see him on the training deck when everyone else is asleep.”

Lance shrugged. In the past, he’d seen Keith work out his frustrations on the training deck, too. But lately he hadn’t been doing that, so Lance felt like maybe something different was going on. He thought that Keith might be having nightmares, or that something about Voltron was upsetting him. He just didn’t know how to bring it up.

“Have you and Keith been getting along better now, then?” Hunk asked, as he peered at Lance closely. “No more avoiding him?”

“No.” Lance’s ears burned. No one else had really noticed him avoiding Keith except Hunk, he thought. At least, that’s what he hoped. “I just needed some time to think, that’s all. I wasn’t really avoiding him.”

Hunk hummed. He turned back to his tray to observe what he’d been cooking, and lapsed into a quiet, contemplative silence. When he’d made up a new tray of batter – it looked like he was trying to make cookies out of the green food goo and something else again – and slid it back into the oven, he turned to face Lance again. “Don’t get mad at me for asking this,” he said slowly, “because I’m not accusing you of anything, but… do you like Keith? Like, _like_ him?”

It takes Lance a second to process the question. “What? No! What?”

Hunk waits for Lance’s red-faced spluttering to quieten before he continues. “I mean, it would make sense if you did. It’s not a bad thing. You and Keith get along well, right? You’re always bickering, but it’s not spiteful. It’s playful.”

Lance made a hideous squawking noise. “I _don’t_ like Keith.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced. They tasted like a lie and he regretted them immediately. Lying to Hunk was like… lying to a puppy. One just didn’t do it.

“Uh huh.” Hunk clearly didn’t believe him. He poked at one of the newly baked cookies but pulled his hand back when a puff of steam rose from the centre of it. 

Lance shifted his wings, and pulled them tight around his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said, but it still sounded a little like a lie. He did like Keith, but he didn’t know if he _liked_ liking Keith. When he said as much to Hunk, his friend gave him a sympathetic look.

“Well, what do you like about him?” Hunk asked. “Maybe if you talk it out you’ll feel better. You’re not good at bottling things up.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Lance couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “I don’t know what to say,” he said. “I guess… I guess I just like Keith. His wings, they’re–” He swallowed once. “They’re really pretty.”

Hunk nodded. “They are.”

Lance let out a slow, long breath. He’d obsessed with Keith’s wings for months now. It was a relief to finally admit it out loud. “I like his wings,” he said again. “A lot. He asked me to groom them for him.”

“He did?” Hunk’s eyebrows shot up.

Lance nodded. “In Red, when we were stuck in that snow storm. He’s groomed mine, too.”

“Wow. Did it feel nice?”

Ears still pitifully red, Lance nodded. He liked the feel of Keith’s fingers in his feathers. He liked the feel of his fingers in Keith’s feathers, too. He would like to experience both again. “I like– I guess I like his face too. Even if his hair is sort of stupid.”

Hunk laughed quietly. “You think he’s handsome.”

Lance wasn’t going to deny it. “This isn’t solving my problem,” he said. “Something’s bothering Keith but I don’t know how to make it better for him.”

“And because something’s bothering him, something’s bothering you,” Hunk surmised. “Because you like him.”

“Don’t make me regret telling you.”

Hunk only grinned. “Just ask him to stay the next time he sneaks into your room. He probably wants to, anyway.”

Lance frowned, confused. There was no way Keith wanted to stay until morning, or else he would have. It wasn’t like Keith liked him back.

“Do you want him to stay?”

“It would give me a chance to ask what’s wrong with him,” Lance said. That’s what this was really about – not his attraction to Keith and his stupidly pretty wings, but his concern regarding Keith’s recent actions. He needed to figure out a way to convince Keith to talk to him, even if it wasn’t in the morning after one of his impromptu sleepovers. 

“You could always just ask,” Hunk said.

“I can’t just ask,” Lance said, indignant. 

“Alright, alright. What’s your plan of attack, then?”

Lance pulled one knee up, ignoring the way Hunk gave him a pointed look – feet weren’t allowed on benches. He put his leg back down. “I have no plan, actually. I was hoping you could suggest something. Team intervention? Corner him in training?”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “In the interest of our friendship, I’m going to just tell you to talk to him. It's the easiest way to get answers, and I have a feeling he’ll listen to you.”

“Why?”

“It’s obvious he trusts you the most, if he’s going to you at night. And besides, you two totally bonded in Red, and on that training station.”

“We did not!”

Hunk stared at him.

Lance was reminded of the way Keith had shielded him with his big wings. “Alright, maybe a little.”

“What if he likes you back?” Hunk asked.

Lance didn’t like how seriously Hunk asked the question, like he actually believed it was a possibility. Like there was any chance that Keith liked him back. There was no way it could be. Not only was Lance the most annoying person in the world, but his wings were plain, too. Keith deserved someone with the prettiest wings out there. Someone who would love him for him, probably in a way he’d never accept from Lance, pretty wings or not.

“He doesn’t,” Lance said. There was no arguing with him then.

“Just talk to him,” Hunk insisted. “Trust me, you’ll save yourself a lot of trouble.”

 

Lance did not talk to Keith. In fact, he was sure Keith was avoiding being alone with him, so the problem continued to make itself a bigger problem. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Keith. He just didn’t want to ruin their friendship, or make Keith feel like he couldn’t trust him. What if he said something, and then Keith didn’t want to talk to him at all? Ever? He didn’t want to pry in a way that made Keith feel like he was prying.

He’d rather be sneaky about it.

He was good at being sneaky.

Keith made the same midnight trip into Lance’s room two days after his talk with Hunk. Lance never knew when to expect him, so he wasn’t awake, but after he’d let Keith in and given him the spare pillows and blanket he’d been hoarding – much to Keith’s surprise – he made sure to stay awake. It was hard to keep his mind conscious with his eyes closed and his head resting on his pillow. 

After ten minutes, maybe fifteen, Lance heard Keith’s breathing even out. He waited another minute after Keith’s wings had stopped ruffling, anxiously counting the numbers until he reached sixty. When he had, he pushed himself upright.

Keith was indeed fast asleep. Lance watched him for a moment, wondering when Keith had become so comfortable in his bed. He had his pillow stuffed under his head, and had his back to the wall. One big wing was curled over his hips and thighs, the other laid out between the wall and his back. Hair had fallen between his eyes, and unlike usual, there was no wrinkle between his brows. He looked relaxed.

It was a very different expression to the one he wore when he asked Lance if he could come in on the nights he did.

Lance paused for a moment, wondering if his plan was really a good idea. Still, he slowly shifted towards Keith’s end of the bed, making sure to keep his wings pressed tight and flat against his back. Keith snuffled for a moment, turning his face further into his pillow. Lance waited for a painful, breathless minute, but Keith made no sign of waking up, so he crawled a little closer.

He was careful not to dip the mattress too much as he laid down beside Keith. There wasn’t much space between Keith and the edge of the bed, but he made do. He tucked his arms in tight against his own chest, and carefully draped his wings around himself like a blanket, not wanting them to dangle off the bed. As if sensing his presence, Keith shuffled over a little, leaving more room for Lance to lay down on his side next to him.

It was strange being this close to Keith when he was sleeping. Not a bad strange. A strange that made him red all over, his heart racing wildly. Keith looked so handsome when he slept, even if there was still a sort of tenseness in his eyebrows. He always looked handsome. Lance was close enough that he could feel every exhale Keith made brushing faintly across his forehead, close enough to hear the sound of Keith’s inky feathers ruffling together when his breathing moved his wings ever so slightly.

If he laid here, then Keith wouldn’t be able to leave the bed without waking him. 

It also meant that maybe, just maybe he might wake up with a wing draped over him, but that wasn’t the point. A little part of him – well, a big part – was hoping that Keith was a hugger in his sleep, but it seemed very unlikely. Lance knew he was a hugger, but he’d try to keep his hands to himself. It wasn’t like he was praying for Keith to hold him, or to cradle him in his pretty wings, or anything like that.

But just a wing… if he could have just a wing over him, that would be really nice.


	17. Seventeen

For the first time in a really long time, Lance slept peacefully. 

Waking up left him feeling a little disorientated and soft-limbed. His left arm was full of pins-and-needles where it was trapped beneath him. He was still sleeping on his side, with his wings resting loosely furled against his back and shoulder blades. There was nothing inherently different about the way he was that was different from how he normally slept. Nothing about him had changed.

Except for the fact that there was another person in his bed.

It took Lance a while to realise that his plan had actually worked. He was so warm and comfortable that he almost didn’t want to wake up. It was only the feeling of someone else’s feathers sliding across his skin that had his eyes fluttering open. 

Keith was still sleeping next to him, looking like he’d hardly moved an inch from when he’d crept into Lance’s room the previous night. His face was somewhat red, probably from the heat of another probably pressed so close to him. And they were close – he and Keith. Closer than they’d been when Lance had drifted off to sleep.

And now he had one of Keith’s wings flung over him.

His first thought was that Keith’s wing was heavy. Sleep made the wing bone slump across him, all of Keith’s feathers limp and gentle against where they touched Lance – his arm, his shoulder, his waist, his stomach where his shirt had ridden up like it always did. He could feel the feathers completely encompassing him, and for a moment, it took his breath away. He was completely enveloped, tucked away where it felt like no one could ever find him.

Almost immediately upon waking, he had no idea what to do with himself. He sucked in a sharp breath as he felt blood rush to his face. He was sure that if he moved, Keith would wake up and be mad at him. So he made sure to be as still as possible, giving himself enough time to take in as much of Keith as he could.

Keith still had one arm tucked under his head, keeping it propped up on his pillow. His other arm was draped across Lance’s waist, and when he shifted away, embarrassed, the loose grip tightened, making Lance still. Keith’s fingers were twisted in his shirt; there was no way he could put any space between them.

Not that he really wanted to, but that wasn’t the point.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead. What was he meant to do when Keith woke up? Get straight into asking him questions? Pretend to sleep? Actually try to sleep again and wait for Keith to wake up? Maybe talking would have been better in the first place, like Hunk had said.

Eventually, he closed his eyes, and tried to relax. He waited until Keith’s fingers loosened before slowly sinking into a more comfortable position. His wings shifted, and Keith’s did too, lifting ever so slightly just to give Lance a bit of fidgeting room before settling over him again. His feathers were so warm and soft that it made Lance drowsy again. Keith must have been conditioning his feathers more to get them to feel like this, and it was oddly hypnotic. Lance curled up tighter, content to rest under Keith’s wing. The innermost feathers were the softest, and with every shift caused by the soft inhales of Keith’s breath made them brush against his skin, faint and silky.

Sleeping again didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

 

The next time he woke up, it was to Keith sitting upright. Again, he was disorientated, until he felt Keith’s wing jerk away from him. He blinked several times, barely squashing a whine that threatened to escape his throat. He was enjoying that wing.

“Lance?”

Nervousness coiled in his stomach at the questioning tone in Keith’s voice. He stretched out along the bed, letting his wings flutter and shift against his back, discreetly ducking his face behind one. “Morning,” he muttered.

“Uh…”

He lifted his head, hoping that his sleepiness hid the mounting panic in him. Panic that made him instantly want to squirm his way out of an uncomfortable situation. Owlishly, he blinked at his current position, and tried to fight off the sleep still thick in his mind. “Oh.”

Keith looked like he was ready to vault off the bed and fly away. His face was redder than his Lion. “Uh,” he said again.

Lance decided to ignore him. He pushed himself upright, and stretched his arms over his head. He still felt well rested, despite Keith’s sudden panic – and his own, for that matter. He supposed the difference between the two was that he was hiding it better.

“So why do you want to stay here?” Lance suddenly blurted out. That counted as talking, right? Hunk said talking was good. Hunk was never usually wrong with this sort of thing.

Keith’s wings tensed, his feathers going still. He gave Lance a look that was almost a scowl, but without any real effort.

“I don’t mind,” Lance rushed to say, before going red. “I mean, it’s not a problem, or anything. But… I’m worried? I’m worried. So if you want to talk, then I’m here.”

Keith hesitated. He pulled one leg up, looking incredibly defensive as he tucked his wings in tight. Lance shifted to the side a little, making it clear that Keith could leave if he wanted to. There was no point in talking if Keith didn’t actually want his help. It had to be his choice, even if Lance really wanted to help him.

Finally, Keith let out a frustrated growl, and crossed his arms. “I keep having dreams.”

Lance’s eyebrows rose. “Dreams? Bad ones?”

Keith nodded, the movement sharp and jerky.

Nightmares, then. That was what was driving Keith to his bedroom. Lance had had his fair share of bad dreams, too. “What are they about?”

Keith fixed his eyes elsewhere, stubbornly refusing to look at Lance. He was silent for a moment, and looked like he didn’t want to say anything. The words that left him were a hissed confession. “You, mostly.”

Something uneasy twisted in Lance’s chest. It felt like his lungs were being squeezed. He gave Keith a stricken look. “You have nightmares about me?”

“No– not like that.” Keith held up a hand, looking stricken himself. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lance frowned. “That’s how it sounded, Keith.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Keith repeated. A furrow had formed between his eyebrows. “I just meant – in my dreams, you’re there. Something always happens to you, and I can’t– you end up hurt.”

Lance pursed his lips, unsure what to say. He’d had nightmares about Voltron before. He was pretty sure they all had, at some point. He’d dream that someone from their team would get hurt or separated, or that he’d get hurt or separated, and wake up in a fit of sweat and choked cries. He hadn’t found a way to rid himself of the nightmares, but waking up and seeing his teammates safe the next morning usually soothed his anxious heart.

So he understood how Keith felt. But this also felt… different. His connection with Keith – whatever it was – made everything feel a little different. If he had a nightmare about Keith being hurt… he didn’t even want to think about it. His heart was already racing.

“You end up hurt,” Keith said again, “and I can’t help you, not even when I try. Sometimes something happens to Blue– or, or even to Voltron, and you’re _hurt_ and I just… can’t do anything. Can’t fix it.”

“Keith,” Lance said, when it was clear Keith’s frustrations were making his feathers puff up anxiously, “I’m right here, okay? I’m not hurt.”

“I know that!” Keith snapped. His eyes were fire and fear, looking violently indigo in the low, glowing light of the bedroom. “But that doesn’t change what happens when I close my eyes! I could deal with it before.”

“Before?” Lance asked, confused.

“It was easier before,” Keith said, “when I dreamed of one of us getting hurt. When I dreamed of you getting hurt. But now I just–” He cut himself off. “I hate it.”

What was someone meant to tell a person when they spilled one of their darkest fears? If Keith were any other person, Lance would have hugged him. Physical comfort was something that Lance craved, something that he needed in order to feel better. As a child, his father would wrap Lance up in his wings, using his big, thick feathers to cushion Lance’s head and cradle his body. Nothing had ever felt safer.

He wanted Keith to feel safe, too. He knew what repetitive nightmares did to a person, how they dug deeper and deeper into an already bleeding wound. 

So he inched closer, and let one of his wings fall across Keith’s legs. “Having nightmares isn’t something to be ashamed of,” he said, as he pried Keith’s tense fingers away from his elbow. If he gripped it any tighter he was going to hurt himself. “I have them too, Keith. We all do. And sometimes they don’t get better until you see everyone safe at breakfast the next morning.”

Keith’s eyes flickered up to his. The frustration in those indigo irises slowly started to extinguish itself. 

“If sleeping in here makes you feel better, then I don’t mind if you do,” Lance continued. He really meant what he said, too, and it wasn’t just because he liked Keith. “You don’t have to knock when you come in, you can just come in. You’re welcome here.”

“But…”

“No buts, Keith,” Lance said. “I’m being honest, here. You saved me back on that ice planet, and again on that trading station. This is the least I can do for you, right? We’re a team. I don’t want you to be upset.”

It was probably the most honest thing he’d ever said to Keith. The most sentimental thing he’d ever said, as well. He worried that maybe his feelings for Keith were seeping through the cracks in his mask. 

“Why help me at all?” Keith asked. His expression was completely raw. He’d grabbed onto Lance’s fingers and hadn’t let go. “Why let me stay here?”

“Because you’re my teammate,” Lance said. The simple words came easy. “And I care about you.”

Keith looked at him. Just looked. There was nothing startling about his gaze, nothing burning in his eyes that made Lance think there was any chance of a volcano erupting inside of him.

Nothing to make him think that Keith was a mere fraction of a moment away from kissing him.

Because then he was.

Kissing him.

A flurry of feathers stormed around him as Keith pushed him down to the bed by the arms. His wing twisted awkwardly under him but he could hardly feel it. Keith’s kiss was clumsy and desperate. Their lips didn’t align properly and he pressed too hard, like he wanted to leave a bruise. A frustrated groan left his lips, touching Lance’s on the way out, and he pulled back to align their mouths properly.

And then it felt like a real kiss. No more or less real than his first attempt, but softer, gentler, like he was trying to coax Lance into responding. Pleading. Lance’s heart had climbed into his throat. Some part of him realised he should be closing his eyes, so he closed them, and melted boundlessly into the mattress. 

Keith kissed like a wildfire. Everything about him burned – the curl of his fingers around Lance’s arms, the press of his wings as they cocooned Lance against the bed, the taste of his rough lips. He kissed in the same way scorching lava met the ocean. 

Lance wanted _more._ He wanted more and more and more.

But the moment Keith realised what he was doing – what he’d done – he lurched away. His wings beat wildly, forcing Lance to lift a hand to shield his eyes. Keith looked horrified. There were bright spots of colour in his cheeks that only deepened when he met Lance’s startled eyes.

And then he was gone, escaping through the doors before they’d even properly slid open.

Lance suddenly felt very small. He touched his lips with the tips of his fingers, but winced when they ached. He licked them to sooth them instead and tried to convince himself that he couldn’t taste Keith, but he could. He _could._

He felt like crying.


	18. Eighteen

What was a person meant to do when the guy they liked kiss them and ran?

Blame themselves, of course.

That’s exactly what Lance did. He was convinced that Keith had figured out that Lance liked him. What other reason could he have for kissing Lance other than pity? He’d figured it out, and done the only thing he thought would make Lance feel better. It made sense, didn’t it? If one of Hunk’s cooking experiments turned out awful, Lance still declared that it was good. When his mother tried to sew a hole in his clothes but only made it worse, he smiled and thanked her and said it was better than new.

He didn’t want to be the pity choice. He knew- he _knew_ that he would never be anyone’s first choice, perhaps not even their last. But being with someone only because they pitied him was worse than that. He’d rather be on his own.

Unsurprisingly, Keith didn’t show up at breakfast. Lance only dragged himself out of his room because he knew Hunk would worry if he didn’t. In the end, Hunk worried anyway, but at least it was for Keith and not for him. Lance wanted to do nothing more than to hide away from the team, to wallow in his pity until he felt he couldn’t get any sadder.

Of course Hunk noticed that, though. They were best friends, and when it really came down to it, Lance thought his silent moping was loud enough to attract the attention of all his teammates. Even Coran was giving him worried looks, and worrying Coran was like worrying a parent. Or a weird space uncle. Same thing.

“Did something happen?” Hunk whispered, as he handed Lance a plate of food at breakfast.

“No,” Lance said, arms crossed petulantly. “Nothing happened.”

Hunk clearly didn’t believe him, but didn’t bring it up in front of the others. 

Breakfast was interrupted by the emergency alarm going off. Lance was so buried in his own thoughts that the alarm scared the life out of him. He jerked up from the table so fast that his chair screeched along the floor, but it was lost in the sound of the siren.

“Paladins, to your Lions!” Allura commanded, as she stood, hands planted against the table. “Now!”

Lance didn’t hesitate. He followed closely behind Shiro as they rushed to suit up in their armour. It was routine now, a process that became quicker and quicker each time it was performed. Less than three minutes passed before everyone was shuttling down to their Lions. It had been a while since Lance piloted Blue, and although he wished the circumstances were better, he was relieved to be back with her.

“What’s the situation?” Shiro’s voice crackled through his helmet as Black rocketed out of the hangar bays, closely followed by the rest of the team. 

Lance eased Blue up beside Black, stubbornly keeping his eyes away from Red. It wasn’t hard – not with the Galra fleet staring them down. Lance tightened his fingers around Blue’s controls and tried to keep the anxiety from his mind. Any change in him made Blue curl, made her tense and hum with a sound that was not unlike growling.

He did not want his weakness to be her weakness. 

Weakness meant he was replaceable.

The Galra deployed their assault ships before Allura could reply. This wasn’t an uncommon situation – not all the places they docked the Castle were safe. Sometimes a Galra battle ship would find them, and take action immediately. Like now.

Lance urged Blue forwards. The Galra ship was a hulking mass in the distant, as dark and solitary as a gravestone. Purple lights lid up its side, and a wave of assault ships deployed from its lower hangars, glowing like insidious stars. They were fast, but not as fast as the Lions.

The first wave swooped in from the right side. Green rolled out of the way and fired, sending plumes of smoke and debris up into the air. It was usually Hunk and Yellow that came to watch Pidge’s back, but this time Lance dove in headfirst, eager to put space in between him and Keith. He crossed over the top of Pidge’s back and shot at the incoming ships, unable to stop himself from letting out a victorious shout when his aim proved true.

“Do we need to form Voltron?” Hunk yelled over the communications line. “Are there too many?”

“No,” Shiro ordered. Black lurched forwards, taking out more than Green and Blue had combined. “Focus on the individual ranks. Watch each other’s backs; take them out systematically. We need to conserve our strength and wait for the Castle to open up a wormhole.”

It sounded easy enough in theory, but battles were never theory. 

“Lance, cover me,” Pidge said.

Lance did. He could tell the others were surprised with the shift in teams. It was easier to pair up with whoever was on the same side of Voltron’s collective form – Red and Blue, Green and Yellow. Their pairings were complimentary, were designed to make one another stronger. That wasn’t to say the others couldn’t be equally as powerful, but the Lions had their preferences, and certain pairings naturally formed.

And as much as Lance had used to dislike Keith, as much as he’d annoyed him and angered him and teased him, that hadn’t stopped either one of them from working together. Lance knew that Voltron had to come before petty squabbles and rivalries, and it always had. He would have been stupid to ignore Blue’s pull, to ignore the thousands of years of instincts running through her, the same instincts going through Red.

But this felt different. Thinking of Keith made his stomach hurt, and his apprehension bled into Blue through their connection. She would forgive him for staying away this time.

Despite the Galra having significantly larger numbers than Voltron, the Lions could hold their own against them. Lance and Pidge peeled away from the group to divide the numbers, taking the slightly smaller majority off to the right side of the Castle. Pidge fired up their shield while Lance covered for them, taking the majority of enemy fire. A beam bounded off the side of Blue’s side, sending him spinning out of alignment, but by the time he righted Pidge’s shield was up, and he could power up his ice gun.

The first beam sent a chilled thrill up his spine. Lance drove Blue out from behind Pidge as blue light began to condense in Blue’s open maw. Ice rapidly formed, and as the beam fired, it frozen a line of Galra ships. A silent moment passed where only the ringing in Lance’s skull could be heard, and then the ships began to spark, and one combusted, setting the rest off. Debris flew through the air like confetti from a gun.

When the debris had cleared and the static in his head was replaced with the voices of his teammates, Lance directed Blue back to Green’s side. Pidge was managing fire from the left side so Lance guided Blue around the side of the shield, taking out Pidge’s attackers as fast as he could.

“Thanks, Lance,” Pidge said in between breaths.

Lance was too distracted to quip back something charming or boastful like usual. If Pidge noticed, they didn’t say anything (and although silence sometimes spoke louder than words, Lance remained silent). He swung Blue around, taking the chance to cast a quick glance towards the other Paladins. Hunk had his large gun fired up, and swept through a long line of ships right as Lance caught sight of him. They went off like fireworks, flashing orange against Yellow’s flank as the Lion swept through trails of smoke. Black and Red were both firing at the same cluster of ships, but instantly Lance realised they were too close, and the resulting blast sent both Lions careening backwards, head-over-tail.

He was flying Blue towards them before he really realised what he was doing. His heart had clambered up into his throat and had dug its heels in; no amount of rationality would dislodge it. A blast like that wasn’t even enough to scratch the Lions, but just thinking about Keith being tossed around in Red’s cockpit had Lance in a frantic flurry. 

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked.

“Fine,” came Keith’s reply.

Hearing his voice made Lance sag with relief, but it was short lived. Why was he acting so pathetic? Keith didn’t need Lance to rescue him, or to worry about him. He never had.

How could one kiss make everything feel so wrong?

“Maybe we should form Voltron,” Hunk said. His voice was heavy with worry as Yellow skidded to a stop beside Black. There were scorch marks up Yellow’s left foreleg, but the damage wasn’t bad, and Hunk only sounded out of breath. 

Shiro considered it. “Allura, how much longer until the Castle is ready to jump?”

“Less than two dobashs,” she said.

Two minutes. It was enough to form Voltron, but enough to last on their own, too. For the first time, Lance didn’t want to form Voltron. He felt too disconnected from Keith, too vulnerable and rejected. Voltron bonded them – the whole team – and he didn’t need anyone prying into his feelings. 

As if sensing his distress, Blue began to make her low growling sound again, enough to make Lance’s hands vibrate around the controls. It was soothing. “We’ll be fine without Voltron,” he said, before Shiro could agree with Hunk. “We can manage.”

Shiro’s frown was practically verbal. “If we form Voltron, we can take out the entire ship,” he said.

“That might be beneficial,” Allura said. It took a lot of power to create a wormhole big enough for the entire Castle to safely pass through, and she sounded drained. No one had had a proper chance to recuperate from their last fight, either. 

“We should form Voltron,” Keith agreed.

For some reason, Keith’s opposing opinion sparked a feeling of anger in Lance, like how he used to feel. It startled him more than anything, and left him feeling chastised, like he’d taken three steps back instead of a step forward. He didn’t want to feel angry at Keith, but maybe he was.

“We’ll be fine on our own,” he said, voice steady and devoid of emotion. Blue’s cooling presence slowly extinguished the anger hot in his throat. 

“Lance,” Shiro started, but then he stopped, unsure what to say. It wasn’t like it was the first time Lance had disagreed with Keith, perhaps not even the hundredth. But it was the first time in a while, and the first time he’d ever voted against working together. 

He knew well enough the limits of his skills. He could shoot okay, fly okay, strategize okay. A jack of all trades, but a master of none. Only valuable when placed in a team, the same way glue was only valuable when things need to be stuck together.

Red shifted across from their little huddle, leaning closer. Blue straightened, almost as though she were reacting to Red’s presence. It was strange to be trapped inside her when she gravitated around Red. They were like two sides of a coin, or a reflection in a mirror; two warring powers.

“Why are you arguing with me now?” Keith demanded.

“I’m not arguing, I’m just saying what I think is best,” Lance said. He was definitely arguing. He didn’t want to talk to Keith. He didn’t want to be pitied by Keith, or underestimated by Keith, or in love with Keith.

But he was all of those things.

Blue’s jaw opened, just a little, like she was baring her teeth at Red. Lance closed his eyes, letting himself be swallowed by her protective aura. She came to his defence, and her actions strengthened him. He could be as vulnerable as he wanted in Blue and no one would get to him, not even Keith.

The Galra did not wait for them to make a decision. Another wave of assault ships swarmed, and the Lions broke away from one another. Lance did what he was meant to – he covered Pidge, he fired ice, he stayed concentrated. He wouldn’t let himself think about Keith, or his smooth wrists, or the way he kissed so desperately. Those were thoughts for another time, when they weren’t counting the seconds until Allura could get them to safety.

When it finally happened, all the Lions streaked back for the hangar bays, anchoring themselves inside while the Castle was enveloped in a stripy tunnel of light. There was a pull beneath Lance’s navel, and then several thick seconds passed, before they settled into a new nook of the universe. 

“Is everyone alright?” Allura asked.

A round of tired groans and huffs answered her. Even Lance let out a grunt, sinking back into his chair like the weight of his wings was pulling him down. He wanted to sleep for several uninterrupted hours. He wanted to kiss Keith again. He wanted to fly above the ocean and dip his fingers in the cold water. 

But, frustratingly, mostly that middle one.


	19. Nineteen

Their arguments didn’t end there. If Lance could have avoided Keith at every turn, he would have. Hiding seemed like the only way to keep himself sane. Three days passed where they did nothing but argue and avoid one another. If Keith walked in a room, Lance stomped out. If Lance was eating breakfast in the dining hall, Keith skipped the meal. Neither one of them trained on the training deck at the same time if they weren’t forced to. Keith no longer came into his bedroom at night.

If all they were doing was avoiding one another, then maybe the team wouldn’t have mentioned it, or let the awkward tension play out for itself. But their arguments were intruding on Voltron matters, and that wasn’t acceptable. 

The first time was in the battle, and the second followed shortly after, in the debriefing. Lance knew that he was at fault because he was the one who kicked up a fuss, but he didn’t want to be chastised for it. Keith had kissed _him._ And then ran away from him. How was he meant to feel? He was already angry at himself, he didn’t need everyone else to be.

But they were angry at him. At Keith too, but that didn’t change the fact that their disappointment in him made him feel worse. It was like a wall was being built between him and the rest of the team, and every argument pushed him further and further away. He knew he was a disappointment. He knew he was pitiful. He knew he wasn’t anything special.

“You’re not even trying!” Keith snapped. It was during draining when he finally got so frustrated at Lance that he forgot he was avoiding him. “What is wrong with you?”

“Me? You’re the one that can’t do it right!” Lance shouted back. The team was doing another session to train their wings. It was the same as battle training on the ground, but in the air instead. Small robots raced around them, firing beams that singed feathers and left faint scorch marks on the walls. The team was meant to work together to protect one another and take out the robots using their bayards and shields, but that clearly wasn’t happening.

“Stop arguing,” Shiro ordered. “This is a team task.”

“It’s not my fault if Keith wants to act like a stupid lone wolf!”

“You’re the one who can’t even shoot straight!”

“Oh, right, because it’s my fault you’re not doing any good today?”

“I wouldn’t have to carry your weight around as well if you’d just land a shot for once! It’s all you can do!”

Lance’s wings twitched back. Keith looked so _angry_ that he couldn’t help but be furious, too. He couldn’t even remember what had started the argument this time. It was a run off from the previous one, but hotter, redder. No anger had dissipated between confrontations – that was true for both of them. “Pull my weight? You can’t even communicate with any of the aliens we meet with! What use is a Paladin who can’t even socialise?”

“You think flirting like some idiot counts?” Keith snarled. “You chat up anything that walks!”

“Guys,” Hunk said, nervous, as he shielded a blast to Lance’s right, “this isn’t the time…”

“No, this is the perfect time, since Lance is so insistent on being a burden to everyone,” Keith said. 

“A _burden?”_ Lance’s voice was becoming worryingly high, no matter how much he tried to school it like Keith was. “I’m not the one who can’t trust anybody else! You’d think after spending who knows how long in a bloody desert you’d actually want to have friends!”

“No one would willingly want to be friends with you!”

“Keith!” Shiro snapped.

“As if anyone wants to be friends with some guy who can’t even understand a joke!” 

“Lance!” Hunk warned.

It was only a blast from the robots that finally broke up the argument. Heat singed the feathers on Lance’s right wing, sending him spiralling to the floor. Keith landed on one knee at the other end of the training deck, a puff of steam rising off his hunched left wing bone.

“That’s enough,” Allura said through the speakers. “Go cool off, the both of you. This training simulation is too dangerous for distracted minds.”

She was right, but Lance still made a frustrated scene as he stormed out of the room.

He hadn’t meant any of the things he’d said to Keith. He knew that Keith struggled to fit himself into social situations, and that he didn’t always understand other people’s humour. He knew that Keith wasn’t a lone wolf by choice. He knew that Keith was trying his hardest to talk more, to feel comfortable in a group, to realise that he _did_ belong with them.

He knew all of that, and he still said the things he had.

Sometimes, he thought that it would have been better if he knew nothing. If that were the case, then what leverage could he possibly have against Keith in an argument? What petty, hurtful, spiteful words would come to his mind when Keith’s anger made him feel vulnerable and raw?

Nothing, that’s what. He wouldn’t have had anything to say. He would have taken Keith’s anger with nothing to defend himself with – but nothing to hurt with, either.

Maybe it would be better if he didn’t know Keith as well as he thought he did.

But then again, maybe he didn’t know Keith all that well anyway. Part of him thought that Keith had only said the things he’d said because he was frustrated and upset, but a bigger part believed that it was because anger brought out the truth in him. Not everyone thought in the same ways as Lance did, and in his lowest moments – like when he turned all the showers on in the bathroom to hide his frustrated cries that evening – it was something he furiously remembered. In anger, Lance said things that would hurt. Other people said things that were true, but usually went unsaid. Keith was one of those people.

He didn’t bother trying to fix all of his singed feathers. He tore them all out and watched them sink into the drain, and waited until his skin was red and taunt from the too-hot water before finally turning off all the showers.

Dinner was an uncomfortable affair. No one said anything about his and Keith’s latest blow-up, but they didn’t need to. Keith’s empty seat at the table said more than enough.

“Lance, you’ve been a bit… off, lately,” Hunk said, as they sat down for dinner. When Keith hadn’t shown up and Shiro had seen his seat empty, he’d sighed and left, too. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Hunk,” Lance said, short and sharp. He didn’t mean to snap at Hunk, but he was not going to talk about this. Ever.

Hunk looked surprised by his tone, and let the subject drop. He wordlessly passed Lance a plate, which Lance took. He wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t been hungry all day. Instead he pushed around his food to make it look like he’d eaten and then excused himself early, ignoring the frowns that were passed around behind him. Even Pidge watched him leave with heavy eyes.

He needed to stretch his wings. Nights made him restless, and sleep evaded him. Ever since Keith kissed him he’d been unable to sleep, no matter how many techniques he tried. Headphones and eye masks did nothing to dull his senses, and although he tried to sleep, he’d toss and turn for an hour before giving up. Some part of him thought that escaping his room eliminated any chance of Keith coming, in case he would. Would he?

Lance scolded himself for thinking about it.

After giving up on sleep, Lance had taken to sneaking down into the hangar bays to fly. No one had figured out what he’d been doing, and since Allura hadn’t made any progress with her quest to find a place for the Paladins to fly, he was still flying on his own. 

Like usual, the hangar bay was empty, Lions excluded, when he snuck out of his room late that night. The Castle was quiet, aside from that frustrating low hum it always produced. All of its inhabitants had gone to bed. He’d listened to the other Paladins walk down the hallway, counting their steps and the sounds of their doors hissing open. Each bedroom was a moderate distance from the next, but Lance was actively listening for the sound of the doors, so he could hear them.

He was glad to spend some energy flying around the hangar bay. His wings had been sore lately, and he put that down to stress and improper grooming. He wanted to fix them, to make them pretty again, but he couldn’t motivate himself to do it. He didn’t even want to look at the spot where he’d yanked too many feathers free. It still stung when water washed over it. What was the point in continuously fixing them when they were never going to be more than common, anyway? It wasn’t like he had anybody to impress.

Lance spent an hour or two flying around the hangar bay, pushing his wings to their limits. He paused once to rip off his jacket and left it crumpled over the crates by the hangar bay doors before he continued. The thrill of diving and only pulling away seconds before he collided with the floor was an easy distraction to lose himself to. He only stopped and slumped across Blue’s nose when he his wings were threatening to buckle from exhaustion. 

“What am I going to do, girl?” He sighed, as he laid flat on his back, ruffled wings spread wide on either side of him. He didn’t have the energy to get back down to the ground, so he was stuck up on Blue for a while. “How am I even meant to look at him? This is all my fault.”

As expected, there was no reply from Blue. She was quieter when she was offline, and it made him feel a little lonelier. There was nothing comforting about a great big hunk of metal, even if it was shaped like his faithful battle partner. He was always closer to her when he piloted, but it wasn’t like he could take her out for a joy ride. He was meant to be sleeping. Everyone was.

Which was why he was startled to hear the hangar bay doors hiss open.

He rolled over onto his stomach, snapping his wings in to press them tight to his back. He wasn’t sure if he could be seen from the ground – Blue was exceptionally tall and her muzzle was wider than his wingspan, but that knowledge did little to quell the sudden surge of anxiety crawling up his throat. When no raised voices pointed him out, he inched towards the edge of Blue’s muzzle, and peered down towards the ground.

It was Allura and Shiro. Allura was wearing her casual clothes, and had her silver cloud of curly hair down. Similarly, Shiro was wearing a loose shirt and pants, something that would be acceptable to sleep in. Lance couldn’t hear their voices over the noise of the door hissing shut, but when silence fell, the echoes began to reach him.

“I’m worried too,” Shiro said, as he folded his arms. They were quite far away so Lance couldn’t read their expressions, but he could _just_ hear their voices. “He hasn’t been himself lately.”

“I know, I’m concerned as well,” Allura murmured. Her voice was barely discernible. Lance had to strain to hear her. “Perhaps he and Keith had an argument?”

“I don’t see what else it could be. They hadn’t been this combative in months.”

“It’s beginning to affect Voltron. I don’t want to say anything to them, because they seem to be resolving a lot of their own arguments, but lately…”

“Lately it hasn’t been that way,” Shiro sighed. He glanced up at Black, making Lance shrink away from the edge a little. He regarded his Lion for a long time, until the silence became oppressive. “Something about this argument of theirs feels different. I’m not sure if they’ll be able to resolve it privately.”

“But is interfering the right thing to do?” Allura asked. She didn’t seem put off by Shiro’s long moments of quiet. They seemed to sooth her, actually. Her voice was much more stable when she spoke this time. “Perhaps we should have a team meeting.”

“I somehow don’t think Keith will appreciate that,” Shiro said, voice dry. “He won’t talk to me about it. He’s not sleeping well, and he’s slipping up in training. I’m really worried about him.”

Lance winced, and carefully rolled onto his back, his wings cushioned against the cold metal of Blue’s nose. He pressed his hands over his eyes like they could blot out the swell of worry in him. He didn’t like knowing he was the cause of Keith’s problems. 

“As the leader of the team, I feel obligated to intervene,” Shiro said, “but I can’t help but feel like that isn’t the right thing to do. Not for Keith, or for Lance. Not yet, anyway.”

“I understand. But if their disagreements begin to affect our performance as Voltron…”

“I know. I won’t let it get that far. I can tell that neither one of them are enjoying this tension. They’re both absolutely miserable.”

“Perhaps if I’d found a place for everyone to fly freely…”

“It’s not that, Allura,” Shiro reassured. One of his big wings sunk a little lower, perching itself around Allura’s back. They weren’t touching, but it was close enough for Lance to feel like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be. “This isn’t your fault. I don’t think it’s anyone’s.”

She let out a noise too quiet for Lance to name, and they fell into silence. For a moment, Shiro returned his gaze to Black, and his wing fell back into place. Lance followed his gaze, unbidden. His Lion had its chin held high, its eyes set firmly forwards. There was something deeply reassuring about Black, even more so when Shiro was piloting. Together, they were stability. Sometimes it felt like nothing could get past either one of them, not even a stolen kiss.

“Is that Lance’s jacket?”

Lance perked up, his eyes jerking down to Allura. He shuffled back against Blue’s muzzle, away from the edge. 

“That’s strange,” Shiro said.

“He must have left it here.” There was a pause, and when he risked a glance, he saw that Allura had picked up his jacket and was holding it carefully, like she was afraid to damage it. “See, even Lance is not himself. He never leaves his things out so carelessly. Perhaps I should talk to him? Though I’m unsure if he’d wish to talk to me about this.”

“Allura, don’t think like that,” Shiro said, as he put his hand on the small of her back. It was a rather intimate gesture. “We all trust you, and Lance knows he can come to you for support.”

“I hope so,” Allura sighed.

The sound of the doors hissing shut made Lance flinch. He pushed himself upright and rubbed at his eyes again. Voices crowded in his head, fighting for the right to make him feel worse. Hunk’s disappointment, Pidge’s silent space, Shiro’s orders, Allura’s worry. Keith’s anger.

He’d made a real mess of things.


	20. Twenty

The arguments didn’t cease. Lance soon learned that arguments could be waged even without words, no matter how much he wanted to put his problems down to verbal blow-ups. 

The worst part of it all was that Lance _missed_ Keith. It was different from his ache for Earth, and from his ache for his family. Keith was different. He made Lance feel different. There wasn’t a single part of him that hated Keith. He just didn’t know how to fix things.

He supposed that the final straw came when Blue’s protectiveness took a stubborn turn. The team had been lucky to avoid the Galra for the past few days, so they’d taken the chance to train as much as possible. It was hard to figure out what to focus on when the Galra’s influence was everywhere. Planets needed liberating and people needed rescuing. With every victory they claimed, Voltron needed to become stronger, to become faster and wiser. Training was the easiest way to accomplish that.

At least, it used to be, until Lance panicked and Blue became uncooperative. 

It wasn’t like it was anything big, just another argument. Keith misaimed a shot, or Lance got in the path of it, or both. He didn’t know. In either case, he got hit, and he blamed Keith. It wasn’t even that big a deal – it was the kind of thing that always happened when they trained with the Lions, and yet it still sent Lance into a panic.

One of the things that Lance learned the hard way was that the Lions were very perceptive to their pilot’s attitudes. The blast shocked Lance more than anything, and he knew that it was an accident, but he still rounded like a cornered animal. Blue roared, and Red reared back in surprise. 

“That’s enough,” Allura shouted. “Everyone inside, now.”

For a moment, Blue wouldn’t respond to Lance’s controls. She hovered, teeth bared, but relented when Lance tried to ease her back towards the hangar.

“I appreciate it, Blue,” he murmured, as he leaned back in his seat, “but this is my fault, anyway. I have… I have to try and fix things.”

Allura and Coran were waiting for the Paladins when they docked and disembarked. It was regretfully that Lance left the safety of Blue’s cockpit, but it wasn’t like he could argue with Allura. She was the Princess, and the leader of Voltron. He had to respect that, even if he was frightened of what she’d say.

For a moment, everyone awkwardly converged in the common room, unsure what to do. Lance took a seat on one end of the couches, his legs too wobbly to keep him up. Pidge folded themselves down in the centre couch, joined by Shiro, who only sat to be polite. 

“This has gone on for too long,” Allura said, as she stood in the centre of the room, her hands firmly clasped. Coran hovered behind her, looking unsure about what to do. “I loathe to interfere in any personal business, but for the good of Voltron, I’m declaring a… team talk, of sorts.”

Lance frowned, folding his arms. 

“I want us to work as affectively and positively as possible,” Allura continued, giving them all a meaningful, pointed look. “But recent… arguments have made this a little challenging.” Her gaze slid to Lance, who barely repressed a flinch, and Keith in turn. “Lance. Keith. Do you have anything to say about this topic?”

“No,” Lance muttered, as he sunk further into the couch. His wings were tense, feathers starting to fluff up no matter how hard he tried to keep them straight. He anxiously shuffled them against his back, trying to subtly put them around his own shoulders like he could hide behind them. The gesture might have fooled Allura and Coran, but it wasn’t lost on his fellow Paladins.

“Lance,” Hunk started, in his patented, unignorably gentle voice, “we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what happened. We’re meant to be a team.”

“Nothing happened,” he insisted. 

It was clear that no one believed him. He didn’t even believe himself, but how was he meant to tell them what actually happened? He didn’t want to. That thought surprised him. Even if it would clear up all the problems and push the blame off his shoulders, he didn’t want to tell anyone what had really happened. He wasn’t sure if that was because he was embarrassed by it, or if he was feeling possessive of Keith’s affections.

Either way, at least he didn’t seem to be the only one feeling that way.

“Keith?” Shiro glanced across the room at Keith, who was leaning against the wall, one leg propped up. He was as far away from the others as he could get without leaving the room. “Do you have anything to say about this?”

Keith remained stubbornly silent, his eyes fixed anywhere but Lance. His dark wings looked bigger than usual – all his wings were puffed up with agitation. He clearly didn’t want to have this conversation, and for some reason that annoyed Lance. It wasn’t like he wanted to have this conversation either, let alone in front of everyone else, but when else would it come up? They were avoiding each other. It really had to stop.

“Look, we can’t solve these problems if no one speaks,” Shiro said. He stood and approached Allura, standing by her side. His wings were flat against his back, but his feathers were long enough to touch the ground, despite his considerable height. Somehow, having him away from the inner section created by the couches made Lance feel less crowded. 

Allura glanced between them – Lance and Keith – again. The worried dip in her brow deepened. “Did something happen?” She asked again. This time, her voice held no room for arguments, or for deflections. Lance felt cowed by the way the syllables left her lips.

“No,” he said, rushed and snappish, at the same time Keith barked out an obstinate, “Yes.”

Lance shot him a withering look. Keith returned it with much more conviction.

“Nothing happened,” Lance said.

“How can you say nothing happened?” Keith argued, as he pushed away from the wall to stalk closer. 

“You’re the one that acted like nothing happened,” Lance spluttered, angry. Feeling cornered against the couch, he jerked upright. He was taller than Keith, even if it wasn’t by much, but he’d never felt smaller. 

“I didn’t!”

“You did!”

“Guys, shouting isn’t the way to resolve things…” Hunk said, palms raised passively. He looked more nervous from where he stood behind Pidge than Lance felt. 

As much as Lance wanted to let Hunk’s anxious rationality soothe him, he was too riled up to listen. “You’re the one that did–” He struggled to find the right word, and forced out an indignant, _“that,_ and then ran away!”

His only consolation was Keith’s returned spluttering. “I didn’t run away!”

“Yes you did!” Lance exclaimed, his wings flaring out. What did Keith mean, he didn’t run away? That was exactly what he did. And worse, he did it right after kissing him! What was Lance meant to think? Any normal person would have been humiliated by that. 

“Okay, so maybe I did,” Keith growled, “but that’s only because you hated it.”

“Who said I hated it?” Lance all but cried. 

“It was obvious! You hate me now.”

“But who said that?”

“No one! No one needed to! Your face said it all.”

“You obviously couldn’t read my face even if it was an open book, then.”

“Are you saying I can’t read?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

“What are we even talking about?” Hunk pleaded. His large wings were tucked right up against his back. Even Pidge was looking a little ruffled, and it was almost impossible to ruffle them.

Allura cleared her throat in an attempt to control the situation. “So something _did_ happen?”

“Mind your own business,” Keith snapped.

“Hey, don’t yell at her,” Lance said. “It’s not like it’s her fault.”

Keith rounded on him. “Oh, you’ll defend her because you have a crush on her? Typical.”

Lance’s feathers puffed up. “I do not have a crush on her,” he argued. It was probably the first time he’d said those words out loud, and he could tell the others were surprised. It was kind of his thing to hit on Allura, even though he knew he had no chance. He could easily and readily admit that she was beautiful, but he’d never really liked her like that. 

There was only one person he really liked.

“You only did _it_ because you pity me,” Lance accused. He could feel the backs of his eyes burning, but he wasn’t going to cry. No one needed to see that.

Keith flinched back like he’d been struck. _“Pity_ you?”

“Obviously!”

“Who said that? Now you’re the one putting words in people’s mouths,” Keith said. His wings shifted like they had a mind of their own, folding and refolding against Keith’s back. “I _don’t_ pity you.”

Confusion made Lance bristle. He blinked several times, both to clear his mind and his eyes. He didn’t believe Keith. There was no other explanation. “If not pity, then why else would you do it? There’s no other–”

“I did it because I wanted to.”

The words disappeared on Lance’s tongue. His wings flicked back then stilled, his feathers drooping. It took a moment for Keith’s words to sink in, and even then, he only managed to force out a waned, “What?”

Keith crossed his arms, shoulders back. He set his chin in a way that dared Lance to try and say he was lying. “I did it because I wanted to,” he repeated.

He _wanted to?_ That didn’t make sense. Lance’s eyes searched Keith’s face but found nothing to defend himself with. He couldn’t make sense of what Keith had said. How could Keith want to kiss him? It just didn’t… it didn’t…

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said.

Keith’s wings sunk. He’d never looked so… hopeless.

Maybe Lance wasn’t the only one who was lost, but that didn’t change the truth. 

“Lance…?” Hunk edged closer, one hand raised to touch Lance’s shoulder. Lance shifted away before he could, blinking several more times. He couldn’t look away from Keith’s eyes – he felt trapped in them. Keith was pleading him to understand something he just couldn’t. His own eyes were becoming dangerously watery.

“I’m done,” he said, as he put his own arms around his waist. “This conversation is over.”

“Lance,” Allura started, when he turned for the door, “we’re not done talking–”

“I said I’m done,” he repeated, wings flaring out. Anyone else would have understood what the action meant, but Allura wasn’t human. It wasn’t fair to her, but Lance still said, “Are you happy now?”

She turned her face away.

Lance slipped between the doors. He heard the doors on the other side of the room hiss open, and used that as his excuse to turn around – he would have anyway. Keith stood in the opposite doorway, watching him. No one else was looking, too quietened by the argument. Lance stared back at Keith, eyes wide, brow furrowed. He let his wings drop a little, falling open. Keith watched him do it. His jaw set, and his fingers briefly tightened around the doorframe. 

Then the doors shut, and Keith disappeared down the corridor.

Lance did the same.

He knew that all the corridors on this floor looped back towards the bedrooms. He’d taken the doors closest to them, and didn’t hesitate to drag himself back to his room. He’d come to hate it in the last few days, but now it felt like an oasis in a desert, and he was glad to be encased in silence for a few moments. He sucked in several desperate breaths, his back facing the door, until the tightness in his chest eased. He was still clutching at his waist, but couldn’t bring himself to stop. Everything would fall apart if he did, he was sure of it.

He’d let his wings fall open on purpose. Regret mingled in him – regret that he’d done it, regret that he hadn’t done it more obviously. He’d seen other avians do the same thing before: his father opening his wings for his mother to sink into, his big brother opening his wings for Lance to hide under during the night, his grandmother opening her wings for his baby cousins to paw at curiously. It wasn’t something that turned people away. It was an invitation to come closer; beckoning hands, a purposeful tilt of the head. 

All the corridors looped back to the bedrooms, so he waited. And waited. And waited.

Until he heard footsteps. He couldn’t help but flinch again, and curl in on himself. He knew exactly who those footsteps belonged to, but he didn’t know if he should dread them or wish for them to come closer. They approached despite his conflicted desires, and stopped in front of his bedroom doors.

“Lance?” Keith asked, his voice small.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came.

Keith entered anyway. “Lance,” he said again.

It was a battle to keep his wings from curling around him. He kept them down, trying to make Keith understand what he wanted when he didn’t even know that for himself. Keith had said he’d wanted to kiss Lance. Lance wanted him to, as well. Could it be as easy as that, for now?

Keith crept forwards. He carefully touched his fingertips to Lance’s back, into the space between his low wings. When Lance didn’t move away, he pressed his forehead against the back of Lance’s neck. His breath was warm on Lance’s skin.

It was a start.


	21. Twenty-One

Although Lance thought he would, Keith didn’t leave. He stayed slumped against Lance’s back until Lance stopped shaking, and even then he only lifted his head. The space where his forehead had rested was suddenly cold.

“I didn’t mean what I said before,” Keith murmured.

Lance had to force himself not to look over his shoulder. He closed his eyes instead, and then opened them again, fixing them on the wall ahead. “Which part?”

“All of it.” Keith’s answer was quick, and showed no hesitance. “I didn’t mean any of it. I’m sorry.”

Lance’s heart gave an abrupt kick. They’d been friends – comrades, acquaintances, rivals, whatever they were – for a long time now, but Lance wasn’t sure they’d ever apologised to each other for anything. It wasn’t their… thing. Did people even have things like that? He was sure they did. He and Keith didn’t say sorry, but they did forgive each other. Or at least, they didn’t talk about it until it no longer mattered and they were back to normal.

Unendingly, his heart reminded him that Keith was different. That their relationship now was different, even if he didn’t exactly know what it was.

“You don’t need to apologise,” Lance said, quiet. “Nothing you said was wrong.”

Keith bristled. His wings twitched up, hovering above Lance’s. “Don’t say that,” he snapped. His fingers twisted in the back of Lance’s shirt. “None of it was true. Voltron wouldn’t function without you. You’re our sharpshooter. No one can make a shot like you.”

Lance scoffed. Everything in him recoiled at the compliments. He wanted to believe them because it was _Keith_ saying them, and Keith never complimented anyone, not unless he believed it. The problem was that Lance didn’t believe it, and he didn’t think he ever would. 

“Lance, I’m being serious,” Keith said. His fingers inched around to Lance’s waist, holding him steady like he was afraid Lance was going to flinch away. He had large palms, and even through the gloves he wore, Lance could feel warmth leeching into his skin. “But you don’t believe me.”

It wasn’t a question. Lance wanted to shy away, but Keith had him firmly by the hips. “No, I don’t. You didn’t say anything I don’t already know.”

Keith frowned, something Lance only saw when Keith spun him around. His wings flared, fighting for balance, but Keith’s were bigger, and they urged Lance’s back down. His eyes were furious as he stared at Lance, looking for answers he didn’t have. “I’m going to make you believe me,” he declared.

Lance blinked several times, gaping. He was going to… what? “Pardon?”

“I’m going to make you believe everything I say,” he repeated. That insistent frown of his tugged at the corner of his lips. “Everything I say from now on,” he amended. 

A flush came to Lance’s cheeks. A rush of thoughts buzzed in his mind, all about Keith and the way his eyes looked like they were on fire, but he didn’t dare say any of them out loud. “For what it’s worth,” he forced out, “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I didn’t mean them either.”

Keith’s wings settled a little heavier on Lance’s, his feathers all fluffed up. It was the wing-equivalent to holding hands and it was doing stupid things to Lance’s weak heart. “I know you didn’t mean it,” Keith said. “You were just angry.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it hurt. I only said it to hurt you, and I shouldn’t have.” Somehow, admitting all those things felt easier. Maybe it was because underneath all the fire in Keith’s eyes was an open sort of vulnerability, the type that only came with honesty. If Keith could be honest, then Lance could, too. It made them equals.

“Lance, I don’t care what you said–”

“No.” Lance shook his head. “You have to let me say it. I really didn’t mean it, Keith. I know– I know that you don’t exactly understand people or jokes, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s really not.”

Keith frowned, but it wasn’t an upset frown. Just confused.

“Look, I’m not… good at being a Paladin. You pull my weight more than you should have to.”

“That’s not true,” Keith said. “There’s no one else who could fly Blue as well as you do. No one.”

“That’s not my point,” Lance sighed, looking away. “All I’m saying is that what I said was wrong. You’re not a lone wolf. And you’re good at making friends.”

Keith looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Not really,” he admitted.

“But you’re trying,” Lance reminded him.

Keith shrugged again, but he seemed much less despondent this time. “What I said was wrong, too. You don’t flirt too much, and you pull your weight. And you’re not a burden. I… I only said that because I felt like I was the one dragging everyone down.”

“You? Why?”

“Because I was making you upset,” Keith said, voice heated. “You weren’t being yourself and it was all my fault. I don’t like seeing you upset.”

Lance swallowed. “Then why did you run away?”

Keith’s wings flicked back. Red filled his cheeks, and his expression fell open, just for a moment. He floundered for words, but closed his mouth, and looked away. “I… I’m sorry. I was just scared.” The confession was barely above a whisper, and so small Lance could almost believe he hadn’t heard anything at all.

“Scared of what?” He asked, his voice falling just as small as Keith’s. His heart was beating so loud that it echoed between his ears. He couldn’t take his eyes away from Keith’s face, not when he looked so open and exposed. It was like all of his outward confidence had drifted away.

“Of hurting you,” Keith whispered. “Of ruining… this.”

“I thought you only did it because you pitied me,” Lance told him. He wrapped his wings tightly around his shoulders and tried not to hunch into himself. It felt strange admitting it out loud when it was obvious what they were talking about. It wasn’t exactly easy to talk about, far from it. But it was harder to deny it when Keith was right in front of him and there were no more arguments to hide behind.

“That’s not it at all!” Keith exclaimed. His feathers all puffed up at once, making his wings seem bigger than they were. “I don’t pity you. I did it because– because I wanted to, like I said.”

Lance bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from blurting out whatever first came to mind. “How can you want that?”

“How can I not?” Keith frowned at him.

Lance didn’t understand. There was anything about him that could possibly attract Keith. The biggest blight about him was his wings; plain, brown, common. Unbidden, he glanced down at the place where he’d plucked too many feathers free. Short stems had started to grow, but they weren’t very attractive to look at, and they were painful to lean on. It was why people were cautioned against plucking too many feathers at once. 

Keith’s eyes followed his gaze. He reached out and placed his hand on Lance’s wing bone, prying his wing open. Lance was too flustered to stop him.

“What happened?” Keith asked, as he inched closer, eyes fierce with concern.

“I plucked them.” There wasn’t much more to say than that. “They were singed.”

Keith looked remorseful as he looked at the patch of short feathers. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Why didn’t you groom them?”

“I didn’t want to.” He was angry and frustrated and at the time, plucking all the feathers seemed like the easiest way to make himself feel better. It wasn’t a satisfying, long-term solution, and he really wished he hadn’t pulled so many feathers out.

“Don’t do that again,” Keith said, stern. He ran the back of his knuckles down Lance’s wing, carefully brushing against his feathers. It gave Lance shivers, and made all his feathers fluff up. Absentmindedly, Keith smoothed them back down. It felt intimate and Lance wanted more. When Keith realised what he’d done, he pulled back his hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lance said. He couldn’t feel his knees. “I think I need to sit down.”

He lurched towards his bed and sat down heavily, letting out a long breath. He sat with his wings curled over him, and his back to his pillows. Drawing his knees up made him feel a little safer, so he did, crossing his ankles. Tentatively, Keith sat down across from him, his fingers curled around the edge of the bed. 

Was it so bad to want more? He didn’t want to rush into anything, let alone let himself fall even harder for someone who might never love him as much as he loved them. 

“Before,” he started, slow and careful, “you said you did it because you wanted to.”

“I meant that,” Keith said. He was watching Lance, his wings still fluffed up and flared a little. A sudden curiosity to see just how big they were gripped Lance. They were certainly bigger than Lance’s wings, and could probably give them both enough warmth to make blankest useless. Lance really wanted to groom them again. It was easy to see that Keith hadn’t bothered to care for them since Lance had showed the team how to condition their feathers.

“Why?” Lance asked. He wanted to believe that his voice didn’t croak, but he knew it did. He was afraid of the answer, because there was a particular answer he wanted so much that it made all the others seem crushing.

“Because I want to kiss you,” Keith said. He put a palm down flat on the bed and leaned closer, his wings shifting against his back. “And I want you to kiss me back.”

Heat flooded Lance’s face. _Don’t rush,_ he reminded himself. Rushing had gotten him into this situation in the first place. 

“Why did you stop the first time?” He asked.

Keith gave him a hooded look. His eyelashes were short but thick. “I didn’t ask. I thought I’d ruined everything. I didn’t want to face that.”

Lance swallowed again, and shrunk behind his knees. His wings shuffled anxiously against his shoulders. “Would you do it again?” This time he definitely croaked, and there was no hiding it.

Keith leaned even closer. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Lance said. He really did.

Keith shifted on the bed, pressing closer. Lance’s knees fell apart, giving Keith just enough space to lean over him.

This time, when their lips touched, he knew there would be no running away. It was only chaste, and his eyes had barely closed before Keith pulled away, but it felt like enough. It was more than enough. 

No one had ever kissed him so gingerly.

He liked it.

“Okay?” Keith asked. He sounded nervous, and when Lance’s gaze flicked up to him, he looked nervous, too. His wings had fallen around his shoulders, and his feathers were still all fluffy. There was no mistaking the blush in his cheeks.

Lance could only nod. He let his knees sink open and crossed his legs instead, trying not to seem so closed off. One step at a time was easy to manage. One apology at a time.

He knew that just saying sorry wouldn’t fix everything, but it was the start he thought they both needed. If they could just learn to talk, and to control their anger, then maybe they could have what he thought they both wanted – something more. Actions spoke louder than words and for once he convinced himself to listen to Keith’s actions, instead.

“This… this is something we can keep to ourselves for now, right?” Lance asked, as he gestured between them uneasily. “I’m not– ashamed or anything, but I just…”

“I want to keep it quiet,” Keith said, and then he winced. “I’m not ashamed either, I swear. But the others are… nosy.” He pulled his wings in tight and shifted a little closer, like he was trying to tuck himself into Lance’s lap without realising what he was doing. “I want you to myself for now.”

Lance flushed. Relief eased the knot in his chest. He was suddenly exhausted, and leaned back against the wall. He felt like they’d made progress. This was progress, right?

“Can– can I stay here tonight?” Keith asked. “Like before.”

Lance nodded. “Just don’t run off in the morning.”

A small smile twitched at Keith’s lips. “I won’t,” he said, “not now that I know you don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” The words came out more honest than he expected them too, and Keith gave him a surprised look, one that slowly changed into relief. He lifted Lance’s hand, and gently pressed his lips against Lance’s knuckles, head ducked to hide behind his dark hair.

Lance could really get used to those soft kisses.

For now, he knew that this was a secret. It would probably be a secret until they worked out exactly what it was.

But it was a secret he didn’t mind keeping.


	22. Twenty-Two

Things didn’t go back to normal after that, but sometimes it felt like it did.

Not in private, though. Lance craved Keith’s attention more than ever, and those shameful cravings only worsened when Keith starting giving him what he wanted. In fact, Keith seemed more than eager to do just that. There was no way Lance could mistake the spark in Keith’s eye for anything but desperation, even if the others only saw passable frustration or pent-up energy.

Which there was a lot of, at least on Keith’s behalf. He was springy and sprightly and always raring for a fight, even more than he had been before all their problems began. He was back to eating at the dining table with everyone too, which seemed to greatly relieve Coran. 

“It’s great to have the team back together,” he said, as he passed around a plate of steaming food goo around the table. Over the last few months, with a lot of help from Hunk, he’d gotten much better at cooking to the tastes of humans. Even if mostly was with the food goo. “Eat up everyone, we have a day of tough training ahead of us tomorrow!”

Lance groaned, but it was a collective sound made by almost everyone at the table. Tough training was always _way more_ than just tough when Coran became this excited about it. He was downright devious. Lance could already feel his wings aching.

As he ate, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Keith. He still didn’t know where they were going with, well, _anything,_ but he was feeling okay. One step at a time. Still, he looked away before anyone caught him watching Keith, and focused on his meal. He didn’t want anyone to know about them, and neither did Keith. 

That they agreed on unanimously.

 

Keith had taken to sneaking into his room most nights. Not always, but admittedly most nights. Five out of seven in the last week. Lance wasn’t complaining. Well, he was complaining – just to himself – that Keith wasn’t coming every night, but he thought it was better that they spent some time separately. 

He felt sort of like a magnet when it came to Keith. He was one half, and Keith was the other, and if they got too close they were going to collide. 

The worst part was that he wanted Keith to come closer.

Which is why he made himself enjoy their time apart. It sounded counter-productive, but he good at making rash decisions, and he didn’t want this to be a rash one. Time apart meant clarity, which he sorely needed. Even if he had started to sleep better with Keith around.

But, if he were being honest, he preferred it when they were together. It had been just over a week since their major argument, and the awkward silences were finally starting to become shorter and shorter. Lance found that they got along better when they were doing something to distract themselves. Training was a good example, and secret midnight trips to the kitchen was another. Anything that kept conversation from becoming too meaningful. 

Grooming was also something they’d started to do – tentatively. Four days after their argument Keith had suddenly shouldered his way in front of Lance when they’d been sitting on his bed and spread his wings. It was certainly a forceful and odd way to ask for a person to groom one’s wings, but Lance was figuring out that Keith spoke better with actions than words, so he didn’t let himself be confronted by it. Besides, he wasn’t going to give up a chance to sink his fingers into Keith’s handsome feathers.

He was doing the same thing that night. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, with Keith hunched over in front of him, he carefully worked his way through Keith’s feathers, smoothing them into neat, orderly lines. The team had been kept up late for a briefing, so it was well past the time they were have meant to go to sleep by. Keith hadn’t even bothered returning to his room that evening. After the briefing, he’d disappeared to his room first, while everyone else lingered to stay goodbye. It wasn’t strange for him to do that, but he hadn’t gone to his room afterwards – he’d gone to Lance’s. 

Lance was surprised, but not too surprised. Keith had been antsy all day, and while the others thought it was because they were arguing again, Lance knew it was because something else was bothering him. He hadn’t known Keith wanted to be groomed, though.

“Are you worried about the mission?” Lance asked, when he grew tired of the silence.

“No. Why?”

“You’re tense.” He prodded between Keith’s shoulder blades to prove his point. All of Keith’s muscles were stiff. “I’m going to pluck this feather, by the way. It’s bent funny.”

Keith shrugged. He winced when Lance yanked the feather free, and took it to occupy his hands. “I’m always tense. Are you nervous?”

“No.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe, I don’t know. Isn’t it normal to get nervous over these things? It won’t be good if we screw up.”

“I never think about it like that,” Keith told him. “The mission is the mission. It’s easier to just do what’s necessary to be successful.”

“So rigid.” Lance waited for Keith’s feathers to settle before he resumed grooming. He was tired, but not tired enough to stop. His views didn’t exactly align with Keith’s, but they had different fighting styles, so he didn’t say anything. 

Keith only hummed in reply.

Silence fell again. Lance was almost done, but he lingered on each feather, arranging them and rearranging them just to stretch out the process a bit more. Every time he groomed Keith’s wings, he felt like he discovered something new. Certain lighting made Keith’s feathers look streaked through with red, but other lighting made them seem a black purer than even what space could produce. With a jealous, yearning reverence, Lance committed the feathers to memory: their shape, the thickness of the feathery strands, the way each rounded off into a curved end. It was almost as hypnotic as the slope of Keith’s neck, and the way his pale skin peeked out from between dark locks of hair.

Soon, he was pawing through Keith’s feathers just for the sake of it. He watched the dark strands disappear between his fingers as he ran his hand down each wing in turn. The first time he’d done this after their argument, he’d been sure to remain behind the line of platonic politeness. He’d groomed Keith’s wings with tender, steadfast fingers. He hadn’t plucked any free. This time, he let that control ease, carrying himself away to a limit where he felt they were both comfortable. 

“I’ll groom yours next time,” Keith murmured. His wings drooped lower and lower with each passing moment, as did his head. It was like all of his anger and frustration and burning restlessness had been put out, and for a moment, he’d allowed himself comfort. There was no furrow in his brows, and the frown that lived in the corner of his lips was nowhere to be seen.

Lance didn’t reply to his whispered comment. That was something that hadn’t happened yet – Keith grooming Lance’s wings. He didn’t want it. At least, not until his feathers grew back. Not until he’d conditioned them enough so that they shone. 

Not until they were better.

Another moment passed, and then Keith was asleep. Lance fixed his wings once last time, and then put his hand on the back of Keith’s head, and gently urged him to lay down. His dark hair fell away from his cheeks as his head rested on Lance’s pillows. Lance didn’t think there was a force in the entire universe that could dull the sharp edges of Keith’s face, but that moment came close.

He tucked a blanket around Keith’s waist before finding a place for himself, too. He had to shift one of Keith’s wings behind him, so that both were in between Keith and the wall, before he had enough room away from the edge. Predictably, fitting two pairs of comparatively large wings into one bed was not the easiest task, but he managed alright.

There was no doubt in his mind that he’d wake up with one of Keith’s wings keeping him pinned to the mattress. It happened every night, without fail. He wasn’t sure if Keith did it on purpose, or if it was something subconscious, but he liked it. Probably a little too much. 

But he’d never slept better than he did when he was hidden away beneath Keith’s feathers.

 

Their next mission was located in a system not completely out of the Galra’s control. It was only a small system compared to other ones they’d been in. Lance thought it was nothing more than four small planets tucked away in their own corner of the universe, but in the end it wasn’t the location that was important, but the planet itself.

Each was rich and overflowing in precious metals and herbs. Allura had explained it as best as she could, but a lot of it had gone right over Lance’s head. Still, there were some things that even he could understand.

“Two of the planets have previously been liberated by the Rebellion,” Allura had said. “One is rich in a specific herb that is used in one of two ways – when boiled, as an energy source, and when crushed into a paste, as a healing balm. We actually have a stock of it on our ship.”

“It was what inspired the creation of the healing pods,” Coran had chimed in. “The regenerative qualities of the herb were replicated synthetically to produce the first prototype.”

“The second planet is famous for its mines,” Allura continued. “There are crystals deep within its caves that naturally produce light, even when removed from the rock bed. They are able to heat to extreme temperatures without breaking, so the minerals found in the crystals are often used when forging weapons. At least, that’s what I can gather from the castle’s old data files. I don’t doubt that there are far more advanced uses for it now.”

The two liberated planets were the ones they first passed by when the castle entered the system. The first was slightly larger than the second, but there was nothing noticeably unique about the shape or size of the planets. 

The next two were more interesting. One was barren – the war had plundered its materials, and now that it was no longer of any use to the Galra, they’d abandoned it. The castle passed much closer to its surface than it had with the other two, and Lance could see faint impressions of Galra structures left behind. The planet looked old, its surface cracked with fissures and collapsed mines. It hardly looked habitable, but Allura informed the team that there were still colonies present on its surface.

Allura directed the castle to approach the last planet from behind the barren one, giving them enough cover to get as close as possible without being seen. This was the target of their mission: the planet was still dominated by Galra stations, and the people were enslaved, forced to labour in mines and three large factories built in a neat row. The settlement was heavily guarded, as it was the only place the Galra had built infrastructure on the planet.

“Beneath the surface of the planet is a layer of explosive gas,” Allura said, when they approached. They’d been briefed on the details the previous night, but now was the time for further explanation. “It’s only thin, and easy to get around if one knows how, but setting any part of it off could cause a chain reaction along both of the planet’s axes.”

“We should definitely not do that,” Lance said, wincing. It wasn’t a smart comment, but all he could image was two crisscrossing lines of fire circling the entire length of the planet, horizontally and vertically. If they broke through the first layer of rock on the planet’s surface, then they’d set off the layer of gas beneath it. Any fighting would have to be done in the air, or preferably, away from the planet altogether.

“Our goal is to lure the Galra away from the surface,” Allura said. “Coran and I will work on blocking their signals so that they can’t call for back up. We should be able to keep them down long enough for Voltron to lure the soldiers away.”

“We don’t need to destroy the infrastructure on the planet,” Shiro told them. He was standing beside Allura, and using his commander voice. They made quite a powerful pair when they were together like that. “Any damage could leave to the outer surface crumbling. All of our focus should be directed towards luring the ships into an air battle.”

It made sense when put that way, but Lance had a feeling it would be easier said than done. It was decided that, unless necessary, they wouldn’t form Voltron. Individual Lions would more effectively lure all the Galra forces away from the planet – five targets were harder to hit than one. 

With their orders given, each Paladin separated to armour up and shuttle down to the Lions. Lane was so focused on the tasks ahead that he didn’t notice Keith hovering in the hallway, hidden in the shadows of an alcove. 

Keith grabbed his arm to catch his attention, making him jump. For a moment Keith looked a little remorseful for sneaking up on Lance like that, but there was no time for apologies. “Be careful, okay?” He all but demanded.

Lance blinked several times, feeling heat crawl up his neck. Sure, it almost felt like Keith was threatening him to stay safe, but he knew Keith wasn’t good with words. It took him a second to decode what Keith was really trying to get at – that he was worried – but it made Lance smile. In the quiet of the empty corridor, he felt safe enough to hold Keith’s hand. “I’ll be careful,” he promised.

Keith watched him for a moment, then nodded, satisfied. He let go of Lance’s hand after squeezing it once and disappeared down the corridor.

Even such a small touch was oddly energizing.


	23. Twenty-Three

Lance urged Blue up behind Black as Allura made a few final preparations for the mission. She, Coran, and Shiro had come up with a plan the previous night – the Paladins would split into two teams and approach the Galra base from either side. It would take a little longer than they wanted to fly around the planet, but it would be safer in the long run. Approaching from both sides would lessen the chance of the Galra attacking them head-on: the two teams would converge and divert the forces upwards, away from the planet, and hopefully defeat them above the planet’s atmosphere.

“We’ll take the lower half,” Shiro said through the communications line. “Pidge, Keith, you’re with me. Lance and Hunk, I want you to fly around the upper half of the planet and meet us at the base. Make sure to update me on your position when the base comes into view.”

“Got it,” Lance and Hunk said.

They split up, and the mission began.

“Do you think the people will be hostile?” Hunk asked, as he flew Yellow just behind Blue. “Like, are they gonna fire on us, too?”

“I doubt it,” Lance said. Hunk’s cynical worrying was predictable, and after all the crazy things that had been happening lately, he was almost comforted by how familiar Hunk felt to him. “They’ll be glad to have Voltron liberate them! They’re being forced to work on the mines and in the factories, remember?”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Hunk conceded.

“I’m always right,” Lance boasted, grinning teasingly as he watched Hunk roll his eyes on the little screen that showed his face. “Honestly, they’re going to be glad we’re here to help them. Most people are. They won’t want to be controlled by the Galra anymore, not that there’s a chance they could be free.”

He didn’t want to sound like he was in it for the glory, but it felt good to know he was able to help people. He liked the attention he got when people were glad to be saved by them, and he liked being surrounded by people who were happy and relieved and liked him. It had been years since he’d realised he craved attention, and fell hard – platonically, most of the time – for anyone who showed him a scrap of affection.

Of course, there was no doubt in his mind that he would still do all he could to help people even if he didn’t get any recognition for it. He knew that his attitude was a little selfish, but he was getting better at catching himself out for it. His Ma always told him that if he recognised his thoughts as selfish or bad, then he could learn from them. She’d always been able to see his flaws, but had only loved him all the more for them. 

He’d like to think he’d inherited her extraordinary sense of insight.

For a little while, he and Hunk flew in comfortable silence. The planet was pretty enough to look at, if one enjoyed endless stretches of orange interspersed with clouds of greyish dust that could have been anything from water vapour to tiny flakes of powdered metal. Lance kind of liked the clouds and the way they were threaded through with silver, even if descending into one unprotected would probably kill him.

Eventually, Hunk spoke up. “Hey, so can I ask you something?”

“You just did, but go ahead.”

“You and Keith hadn’t been… arguing much, lately.”

Lance tried not to blush. “Not a question.”

“Okay. Why haven’t you and Keith been arguing much lately?”

Lance bit his lip, his mind racing to come up with a workable excuse. “Just haven’t been talking,” he forced out, trying to sound as casual as possible. “You know. Can’t talk. Can’t argue.”

“You’re avoiding him again?” Hunk sighed. 

“No,” Lance scoffed. His indignation was honest, but Hunk seemed to think he was in denial about the situation, which worked out perfectly for Lance. Still, not telling Hunk that he and Keith were – something – felt sort of… bad. It wasn’t like he wanted to keep it a secret, but he didn’t want to tell anyone yet. Which, when he thought about it, was the exact same thing, but that wasn’t the point. He didn’t like keeping things from Hunk.

“Well, I guess the silent treatment is better than arguing,” Hunk said. He glanced away for a moment, but then returned his eyes to Lance’s. “But you’re alright, at least? I mean, after that huge blow-up before–”

Lance winced. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Peachy. Can we please change the subject?”

“Sorry, sorry.”

An awkward silence stretched between them. Lance looked away, pouting to himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s a sensitive topic.”

“No, I get it.” Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. The screen showing each Paladin’s face was pretty small, but Lance recognised the gesture well enough to realise what it was. “You can talk to me about Keith if you want, though. Just putting that out there.”

“I know,” Lance said, his voice thick with relief. He could tell Hunk wouldn’t push the conversation any further, and he was glad for it. 

Was this how it was going to be, though? Until he or Keith actually told someone that they were up to… stuff…? What were they doing, anyway? Grooming and sleeping in the same room and kissing… he wanted to do more. But he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do any of it in public yet, even though he felt like maybe he was missing out on something. The more he fell for Keith, the harder it would be to hide it. 

Now wasn’t the time to think about any of that, though. Keith was too much of a distraction and he wasn’t even around. They were literally on opposite sides of a planet.

Hunk eventually lapsed into a normal conversation, or as normal as it could when they were in space talking about spacey things. Like food goo recipes and a certain rock girl and that one time they taught the Alteans had to slide around the floors with socks on (it hadn’t ended well for Coran).

Eventually they came upon the Galra settlements. They eased their Lions to a stop, and contacted the others. Shiro’s team was waiting for them, and once everyone was in place, they began their descent.

Pretty quickly it became clear that the Galra noticed them. Lance yelped as the assault ships began to fire before they’d even left the ground. There was only a small, guard fleet, just enough to monitor and protect the settlement from any rebellion attacks, but not from Voltron. Still, it would be catastrophic if any of the blasts hit the planet’s surface and ruptured the layer of gas hiding just beneath the rock.

“We need to draw them away,” Shiro commanded, as Black swooped down in front of them. “Don’t fire until we’re a safe distance away. The surface could be thin in some places, and even an exploding ship could break it. Our top priority is the safety of the planet’s inhabitants.”

Lance jerked Blue upwards when the Galra ships began to ascend away from the planet’s surface. The Lions scattered, diving away in different directions in an attempt to lure the ships into splitting up. For the most part it worked, and soon each Lion was surrounded by enemy fire.

A shot hit Blue’s flank, making Lance jerk forwards in his seat. His wings snapped back to balance himself, and as he tightened his hands around Blue’s controls, he pulled her back, tumbling tail-over-head until he was behind the ships firing at him. Blue’s jaws split open, and within moments a blue ball of light had condensed between her teeth. A jet of ice split the Galra ship in two. 

There weren’t too many on Lance. He rolled Blue to the side and released another beam of ice, sweeping through a line of ships like they were dominoes ready to be pushed over. Blue burst through their plumes of smoke like a victor.

Lance swept his eyes across the space before him. They had diverted the Galra ships far enough away from the surface to fire safely, and were managing alright. He watched Pidge deploy their shield, fending off blasts that fizzled into nothingness. Bursts of smoke ricocheted off the shield, but Pidge was none the worse for it. Hunk dove down from above them and barrelled Yellow into the ships, taking them out with brute force alone. Lance grinned when Hunk let out a victorious shout.

Shiro and Keith were fending off the largest remaining section of ships. When it came down to it, Black always attracted the most danger – as the leader of Voltron, it was Shiro who was usually targeted. Without the head, Voltron couldn’t function or form properly. Even so, Lance knew he could handle himself. He’d spent countless battles watching Shiro when he could, because this was his hero he was talking about. The awe at meeting him may have worn off, but the way he piloted so effortlessly would never fail to astound Lance.

Still, it wasn’t Shiro who Lance focused on this time. It was Keith. 

Red was rounding up the ships firing at Shiro. He rolled out of the way of a blast from behind, swinging around to face the ships from the side. Molten fire built up between Red’s jaws and set the surrounding ships ablaze. 

Lance dived in before the smoke cleared. Blue’s ice froze the remaining ships before they could fire, and when they fell to pieces, she emerged from the rubble. Red watched on keenly, eyes glowing. Lance felt a thrill jolt down his spine. Blue rumbled with something scarily akin to delight.

“Pidge, can you disable the communications tower on the surface?” Shiro asked, as Black swung into place beside Blue and Red. There was a sooty singe mark along Black’s left shoulder, but no other marks on him. 

“Yeah, give me a few minutes,” Pidge replied. Green shot back down towards the surface.

“Wait, did we get them all?” Hunk asked, as Yellow barrelled to a stop beside Blue. “I thought that would be harder than it was.”

Lance glanced back towards Green, uneasy. He pulled Blue away from the others and followed, wondering if Hunk was right. None of their battles were easy, but when they became used to the patterns the Galra fleets maintained, they became simple to unravel. Settlements like the one beneath them were always guarded by a small fleet of assault ships – the ships they’d defeated. Larger settlements always had a decent amount of foot soldiers too, ones that patrolled the surface. They were usually droids but were still a threat.

“Allura?” Shiro probed. “Any sign of movement from the surface?”

“Nothing yet,” Allura said, as her face appeared on a screen. “Nothing from the factories, either.”

“No civilians?”

“None.” Allura turned her face away. “Coran, can you scan the factories?”

“Pidge, maybe hold up a sec,” Lance said.

Green was already too close to the surface. Pidge pulled back on Green to steady them, but a sudden barrage of shots from the surface bounced off of Green’s chest. Pidge cried out as Green lurched to the side, trails of smoke curling through the air. With the shield still up, Green’s body would be protected, but the beams had nothing to burn themselves out against.

“Pidge, pull back!” Shiro shouted.

But it was too late. Shots ricocheted off the shield, rebounding back towards the shooters. A unit of droids had emerged from the factories, their guns aimed up at Green. The beams that didn’t singe against the shield scattered back towards the planet’s surface, striking the rocky ground. Shards of debris flew up, making it difficult to see. Some of the droids were struck by their own blasts, but that wasn’t the main worry.

“Oh no,” Pidge said.

“Oh no,” Lance agreed.

A large fissure appeared in the ground when the dust settled. It snaked through the rock like a lightning bolt, spreading further and further the longer Lance watched it. A small chasm appeared, and the crack dove straight between two of the three factories, before reaching a point where it suddenly stopped. 

A puff of gas escaped up into the air, harsh enough for Lance to see from his Lion.

Silence reigned.

“Maybe it didn’t crack deep enough?” Pidge pleaded, uneasy.

The ground began to rumble.

Lance’s stomach twisted. “I think it cracked deep enough,” he said.


	24. Twenty-Four

The fissure erupted in one big fracture.

“We need to close that gap!” Allura commanded. 

Lance dove Blue down towards the surface. Pidge followed behind him, the shield sliding back flat against Green’s back. “Are there any weak spots?” Lance asked, as he released a jet of ice towards the fissure. Nearby Galra droids were caught in the blast, freezing solid. They fell apart with a jerk of sparking static.

“Hold on, Coran is running diagnostics.” 

“I don’t think we can hold on,” Lance said. The crack was spreading further, reaching spindly lines out from a single eruption point, the point where the first burst of gas had ruptured. The lines were jagged and sharp, chipping away at the hard rock like it was made from crumbly sandstone. From Lance’s position, the lines looked frightfully like a gun’s crosshair. 

“Lance, try freezing the rupture points.” Allura’s voice crackled through the communications line, making him jolt out of his thoughts. “The gas doesn’t appear to be reactive to water – Coran is finding underground wells just beneath the layer of gas.”

Lance complied. The first shot of ice had stopped the chasm from spreading, so he continued where he’d left off, and trusted Pidge to take care of the remaining soldiers. 

The ice did an adequate job of sealing off the fractures. He didn’t think it was a permanent solution, not by any means, but it bought them time. He urged Blue closer to the ground, following along the deeper cracks. He had to pull away every few seconds to let Blue recharge, but she was raring to go, and soon the cracks that ran between the factories were patched up.

“What about the people inside?” He asked, as he swung Blue back around to face the other Paladins.

“On it,” Hunk said. Yellow, Red, and Black swooped down towards the factories, where groups of people were rushing outside like frightened mice. They flocked to the Lions as they touched ground; Shiro disembarked to direct the flow of people onto each Lion. There weren’t that many, now that Lance was looking – less than two hundred inhabitants. Both the five Lions and the castle were capable of harbouring that many people while the planet’s structural integrity was tested.

Of course, there would be no planet to test if the gas layer ruptured.

“Lance, this way,” Pidge instructed. Their face appeared on a screen, so Lance nodded, and angled Blue after Green. Pidge’s Lion had a lot of modifications that the others were so far lacking, and that included scanning technologies. “The ground is more fragile down this line. Freeze over here.”

Pidge led him down the left most fissure. Lance bandaged what he could, trying to keep his aim as steady as possible. He’d hunched himself over into an uncomfortable position, and now his focus would be broken if he moved, so he kept himself still, hands tense around the controls.

“The planet has just less than ten of your Earth minutes of stability if the gas line ruptures more than half of its circumference,” Allura said. “The scans are showing that the rupture is moving quickly, but the ice is working, Lance.”

“Roger that, Princess,” he said. “Pidge, how deep is the fissure running?” Lance asked. “Is the ice reaching deep enough?”

“Yeah, more than enough. But we’re not going fast enough to stop it from spreading.”

Lance pulled Blue up. He could see the crack chipping away at rock in the distance; this line was significantly shorter than the others, but he needed to stop it from spreading further away. He directed Blue towards the end of the fissure, and blasted the chasm full of ice. It stopped spreading. Lance grinned to himself.

“One down,” he said. “Is there any way to close the gap in the rest of this line? Pidge? What about your nature gun thing?”

“It’s a vine cannon, not a nature gun,” Pidge said, indignant. “I’ll see if it’ll work.” The Lion’s shield disappeared, replaced by a cannon that materialised on its back. Green light condensed, and then fired. Vines burst from the ground on either side of the fissure, and although the first few layers of fragile rock crumbled, the knotted roots took hold. They knitted together over the fissure, and for a moment Lance thought it wouldn’t hold, but it did.

Temporarily, but still. 

“Are the civilians boarded?” Allura asked.

“Most,” Shiro said.

Lance could see him standing beneath Black’s hunched form. He was directing the remainder of the civilians into Yellow. Red was already taking off, jetting back towards the castle.

“Can everyone fit?” Pidge asked, as the vine cannon recharged. They were following after Lance, closing the fractures that the ice didn’t quite reach. Together they were tackling the upper line, Lance from its end, Pidge behind him. It was quicker to work his way from the furthest end back inwards to the rupture point.

He didn’t know how long the ice would hold, or what solution they’d come to after he’d covered all the rupture points. Each fissure he closed seemed to force more gas out of the next, and with nowhere to go, would it be content to linger under the surface again?

By the time he’d closed up the fractures, all of the civilians had been evacuated to the castle. The Lions descended to watch him finish, and then he rose to join them, watching the jagged cross of frosty ice and vines tremble as the gas beneath fought to escape. 

“Is it holding?” Hunk asked. “It’s holding, right?”

“For now,” Allura said, “but the gas has been unsettled. We need to safety siphon it out so that the planet doesn’t crumble.”

“How do we do that?” Shiro asked. “And where?”

“I’ll fine the safe point,” Allura said. “One blast to break through the planet’s surface should do it. I’m having the scanners pinpoint the place where the gas lines are weak, but wide enough to allow a steady outflow. It’s going to take a tick.”

Slowly, Lance let his muscles relax. He slumped back in his chair, and lowered his wings, feeling tension drain out of him. He felt like he’d accomplished something, like he’d been more than just a member of Voltron. Blue’s ice ray and sonic cannon might not have been the flashiest of moves, and they weren’t useful in every battle, but he still furiously believed in his Lion, and getting to use her strength to its fullest gave him a sense that he’d been important.

A private communications line popped up in front of him. He briefly closed his connections with the other Paladins in favour of opening Keith’s screen, where said Red Paladin was waiting for him.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, before Lance could get a word out edgewise.

Lance gave him a puzzled look. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Keith leaned back from the screen a little, blinking. He looked a little flustered. “Just checking,” he muttered.

Lance resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Didn’t you see me?” He asked, voice teasing. “I was awesome! Blue’s the best, aren’t you girl?”

A thread of satisfaction trickled through his connection with Blue. He felt himself puff up with pride as he patted the armrest of his chair. They were birds of a feather, he and Blue.

“I saw,” Keith said. “You looked cool.”

Lance quirked a brow, feeling flushed himself. “Is that a pun?”

“Huh?”

“Cool. Ice. Literally the definition of cold.”

“Oh.” Keith’s cheeks burned. Even with the red glow of his Lion’s interior casting a hue across his face, Lance could tell he was blushing. “Not intentionally, but yeah, I guess.”

Lance grinned. He felt even more victorious when the corner of Keith’s lips quirked up.

Not wanting the others to notice his sudden absence, he closed the private line, and reconnected himself. The other Paladins were none the wiser. Even if Lance was exhausted, he suddenly felt much better than he had before. This whole not-arguing thing was working wonders for him.

The rest of the mission passed in a blur of work. Allura and Coran located the extraction point, so the Lions formed Voltron, and used Keith’s sword to pierce the surface. Voltron’s form was able to withstand the resulting flow of gas without gaining much more than a few scapes, and together they patiently waited until the eruption became a flow which became a trickle which finally eased into nothing. 

According to Allura, there had been a build-up of gas right beneath the surface. The mines had been built by the planet’s natives, but the factories hadn’t, and the construction of them had disturbed the gas, which caused it to condense. Lance imagined it like a bowl of water tipped to heavily to one side. All the water was fighting to wash its way over the edge, and until that overflow could be slowed, then the rest would never return to a stable level.

With the planet safe to live on again, the Paladins escorted the people back down. They helped to destroy the factories, but left the materials for the natives to harvest and reuse. Allura had offered to transport the people to one of the other three planets in the system, but they were adamant on staying and continuing their work here. They were a small but proud colony, and the materials from their mines could be very useful for Voltron in their future – their words, not his. 

Allura didn’t often take repayments for rescuing people, but alliances were as good as currency. 

When everything was over, the Paladins returned to the castle and docked the Lions. Lance couldn’t strip out of his armour fast enough, and struggled for a moment to get the plates off his wings. He had to pause and steady himself, as they all did, when Allura jumped the castle through a wormhole to a safe location, where they could stay for a day or two to recover unless something else came up.

For the time being, they were allowed to recuperate. For Lance, that meant a quick shower and then straight to bed for a solid twelve hours. He woke up once when Keith crept into his room, but not enough to speak coherently – he thought he might have grunted when Keith curved himself against Lance’s back, but he was fast asleep again before his mind could really latch onto the thought. By the time he woke the next morning, Keith was gone.

But there was something in his place.

Lance wouldn’t have noticed it unless he rolled onto it, which he did. He’d yelped when the little object dug into the small of his back, because soft, Altean pyjamas really did nothing to protect him. It was almost a Princess and the Pea situation, and he probably would have gone digging around for the source of his discomfort if he hadn’t seen what it was lying on top of the sheets.

For a moment, he simply held the glittering trinket up to his eyes, taking in its shape and its vibrant blue colour. He knew he recognised it, but sleep made his mind slow, so it took him a second or two of hard thinking to remember where he’d seen it.

The trinket was from the trading station they’d visited weeks ago. That was before his whole argument with Keith, and before he’d really admitted to himself that he’d fallen for Keith more than he ever meant to.

He hadn’t bought the trinket. He remembered looking at it for a little longer than the rest, and thinking that it would be nice to own, but he hadn’t bought it. Only Keith had been with him at the time.

Which meant Keith had bought it.

For him.

Lance’s ears burned as he covered his mouth with his hand. He laid back down on his sheets and breathed in once – the faint scent of Keith still lingered on his pillows. He’d definitely been there that night. Which meant it was definitely Keith who had left him the trinket. Embarrassed and flattered, he held the trinket up, and tried not to smile.

It was really beautiful. He had no idea what it was – a gem? A stone? Some sort of alien metal? – but it was blue and shiny so he liked it. 

A thought occurred to him. If Keith had bought this for him all the way back then, did that mean Keith had _liked him since then?_

_Selfishly, he couldn’t help but think that maybe Keith had fallen for him, too._


	25. Twenty-Five

Lance liked to think he’d gotten pretty good at reading Keith’s impassive expressions. Not Shiro-level good, but decent enough. He’d spent a long time staring at Keith, after all, when he was asleep and awake and any time in between. 

And he knew for certain that Keith was angry.

Even if he didn’t look it.

Lance was sure Keith was angry, but not at him, he didn’t think. Maybe just angry in general. That was as far as his detective skills went. He wasn’t sure what had Keith’s feathers all ruffled – figuratively and literally. 

As far as he could tell, _they_ were fine. “They” as in whatever the thing between them was. Keith still came to his room that night, and even if he was a little rougher when he threw his wing over Lance, it wasn’t purposeful. Of course, he’d thought Lance was asleep by then, so Lance probably wasn’t meant to realise that Keith was upset, but he did. Lance wanted to ask him about it, but by the time he’d sorted out the words to do just that in his mind, Keith had fallen asleep. 

It took him a while to whittle down the list of possible things that could make Keith angry. He was on the list, of course, because he was annoying and competitive and loud. Though he still didn’t think it was him, because Keith usually rose to his taunts, not sulked from them. What if it was the food? But Hunk and Coran were great cooks most of the time. And Lance had been grooming Keith’s feathers more frequently lately, so he couldn’t have had any pain from them. So maybe it was one of the others – except Keith didn’t really mind being around them. He seemed like he enjoyed their company, actually. 

Until Lance looked a little closer.

Keith seemed uncomfortable whenever Shiro pulled him aside. He’d tense up, feathers ruffling. Lance had no idea what Shiro of all people could’ve done to make Keith prickle so much, but after an entire day of watching Keith avoid him, Lance had no doubt that something must have happened.

He wasn't sure how to cheer Keith up. It wasn't like he knew that much about Keith, now that he was thinking about it. He knew a fair bit, as would anyone who spent countless months trapped in space with him, but he wanted to know more. Scratching the surface wasn’t good enough when he was kissing Keith. 

Still, he did know how to cheer himself up, and he figured the same thing would work for Keith.

After a day of tense training where Keith was chastised for not paying attention more than Lance was (which was perhaps the strangest thing to occur in the last month), the team hit the showers, had dinner, and retired to bed. Lance waited up for Keith, knowing that he’d inevitably show up at some point. He wasted the time fiddling with his feathers, smoothing them all flat. The sparse patch was looking a little fuller now that down had grown across it. 

Half an hour passed before Lance heard one of the bedroom doors hiss open. When he listened hard enough, he realised it wasn’t Keith’s one, but Shiro’s. He waited to see where Shiro would go, but it sounded like he went towards Keith’s room, so Lance stayed put. It must have been at least enough thirty minutes before Shiro’s footsteps carried on in the other direction, away from the bedrooms and back towards the common room.

He wondered what Shiro was doing there, but maybe they were patching things up. Curiosity was driving him mad but it wasn’t his business. He wouldn’t want anyone interfering if he was having a private talk with Hunk, after all. Even if he really wanted to know.

When Keith showed up, Lance was still awake. Keith seemed surprised by that, if his raised brows were any indication.

“You seem stressed,” Lance blurted out, before Keith could say anything.

Keith’s wings flicked back. He was dressed for bed, like Lance – plain shirt, loose pants, nothing covering his feathers. “I’m not stressed,” he said.

Lance rolled his eyes, and leaned back on his hands. “Your wings tell a different story.”

Keith’s feathers puffed up. “They do not.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh. Keith pressed his wings together, hiding as much of them as he could behind his back. He looked embarrassed, and the size of his wings meant that most of them were still visible, which made Lance grin. “Well, I still think you’re a little tense, and I have the perfect solution.”

Keith gave him a wary look.

“Oh come on, don’t be that way.” Lance stood, and stretched his wings. “Trust me, it’ll be good. You just have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Promise not to tell?”

“Fine, fine. I promise.”

Lance grinned. “Perfect.”

He’d been thinking of a plan all day, but hearing Shiro walk to Keith’s room had given Lance even more time to think on it. Part of him didn’t want to share his secret with Keith, but a bigger part of him did. Besides, this was Keith he was talking about. The same Keith who was rather interested in kissing him _back._

After checking the cost was clear outside of his bedroom, Lance led Keith into the corridor. Keith padded after him, his footsteps even quieter than Lance’s. They had to be silent to get past the bedrooms, but Lance was a professional at doing that now.

“Where are we going?” Keith asked.

“Shh,” Lance hissed, waving a hand.

Keith huffed, but complied. They travelled down past the training deck and through the quiet corridors until the only noises were their footsteps and the ever-present hum of the castle. Lance was so focused on making sure that they weren’t caught by a wandering Altean or a nosy mouse that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Keith brushed his knuckles against Lance’s. When Lance glanced back at him, Keith was looking away, his ears red. He looked so nervous and embarrassed that Lance suddenly felt the same way.

Feeling a spark of confidence, he nudged his knuckles against Keith’s. Almost like it was a challenge, Keith slipped his fingers in between Lance’s, until their palms were pressed together and their fingers were crossed over and their wrists were almost touching. Keith wasn’t wearing his gloves so his hands felt oddly bare, and the hollow of his palm was definitely sweaty, but Lance kind of liked it.

Holding hands was new. It _felt_ new, even though it was something so mundane. He was starting to like new things.

Eventually they made it to the hangars. Lance had decided that sharing his secret flying habits with Keith couldn’t hurt – not only would it hopefully help him destress, but it would be fun, too. He couldn’t forget how much he’d enjoyed flying with Keith last time, even if it had ended with a bloody nose and a scolding from Allura.

“The hangars?” Keith frowned as the doors slid shut behind them. “Why are we here? Someone will notice if we take the Lions out, they’re loud.”

That was true, but Lance had no intention of flying Blue at the moment. He (reluctantly) released Keith’s hand and shrugged off his jacket, which he’d put on while waiting for Keith earlier that evening. He shoved it in between the crates this time, though, just in case. “We’re not flying the Lions,” he said, grinning. He spread his wings invitingly, and Keith’s eyebrows shot up.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Lance said. “There’s heaps of space here! And I know Allura said not to–”

Keith shook his head. A slow, exhilarated grin was coming to his face. “Let’s go already. I’m tired of being stuck on the ground.”

Excitement made Lance’s feathers quiver. He spread his arms out in a grand gesture, waiting for Keith to go first. Keith spread his wings, beating them a few times, before he launched himself into the air.

Lance watched him, unabashed. Now that he had permission to watch Keith as much as he liked, he took advantage of the privacy they had in the hangars to do so. Keith’s wings practically rippled when he was in flight. His wing strokes were deep and wide, catching great volumes of air beneath his feathers on every beat. Despite the size of his wings and the way he had decent muscles on them, he was extraordinarily quick, and able to cross a large distance in seconds.

And he looked insanely attractive while doing it. 

That was always a plus.

Keith circled the hangar bays once before swooping back down towards him, looking puzzled. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to race me?”

Lance felt his competitive streak rear its head. “As if you could fly faster than me,” he said, smug. He knew Keith was faster than him but that didn’t count when it came to their rivalry. 

After stretching his wings a few times, Lance slowly ascended. Keith clearly wasn’t in the mood for warm ups though, not with the way he darted around Lance like an anxious bird. From this close to him, Lance could see that his hair was all windblown and his cheeks were filling with colour, either from the joy of flying or the exertion of it. Either way, it was a good look on him. A really good look.

Flying with Keith was exactly as he remembered it being. As soon as Keith became clearly frustrated with Lance’s hovering, Lance took off, his wings carrying him straight for Blue. Keith let out an indignant shout but was on his heels in a second.

Lance wasn’t sure how long they spent darting back and forth through the hangars. There was no racetrack or set path, but Lance didn’t care. They flew the length and height of the hangars, rising as high as they could before plummeting to the ground, holding out for as long as they could – Lance was always more daring, and his more flexible wings meant he could twist back quicker than Keith, so he always won those little races. 

It was always satisfying to see Keith’s eyes go a little wild when he bent back particularly far, too. He was starting to think that maybe Keith liked his flexible wings, and it gave him a thrill to show them off.

Eventually Keith tired of flying. When they swooped past Red, Keith suddenly veered into Lance. His arms went around Lance’s waist, one wing curling around them to soften the blow as they tumbled onto Red’s nose. The motion of it made Lance’s stomach drop, and a laugh bubbled up in his throat, one he couldn’t help but let free. He felt more than heard Keith’s huff of laughter as it swept across his neck, sending pleasurable chills down his spine.

Laid on his back, Lance stared up at the ceiling. He spread his wings out, but the one between him and Keith was angled down, so that they were as close as possible. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched Keith roll onto his back too, tossing his wings to the side like he was throwing open curtains. Black feathers brushed against Lance’s face, and he made an exaggerated spluttering noise as he pushed the wing down between them, so that their feathers overlapped.

“At least you don’t have a bloody nose,” Keith said.

Lance snorted, amused. He was still too breathless from all his flying to say anything. It took several minutes for the fast rise and fall of his chest to even out, and even then his heart hardly slowed. It wasn’t racing because he was physically exhausted – it was racing because he was happy and Keith was happy and for the time being, nothing else mattered.

Keith turned his head to glance at him.

Feeling his eyes, Lance returned the gesture. “What?”

“Nothing,” Keith said, but he looked content. “I didn’t know you’d been flying here.”

“No one does. That’s the point.”

Keith hummed. He wasn’t the type of person who smiled when they were happy, but the gentle expression on his face was basically the same thing. He looked back to the ceiling again. “I’m counting this as our first date.”

The words took a moment to sink in before Lance spluttered.

Keith raised a brow, teasing, confident. “Problem?”

Lance immediately knew the answer, so he sank back down against Red, boneless. “No. Not at all.”


	26. Twenty-Six

Since Coran was still out and about prowling the hallways, the trip back to Lance’s room was a little more harrowing than expected. They ended up creeping around corners like a couple of spies, and by the time they slipped back into Lance’s room, Lance was breathless and flushed with muffled laughter.

Although they had both been a little sweaty not too long ago, Lance couldn’t be bothered to shower. He’d cooled off enough on the way back to feel alright, and he could shower in the morning, anyway. It felt better to just fling himself straight into bed as soon as he’d changed into his pyjama shirt. The moment his back hit the bed he was more than ready to sleep.

Keith fluffed his wings out a few times before joining Lance in bed. There were always pillows and blankets for Keith in Lance’s bed now, and he wasted no time making himself comfortable with them. Lance had no doubt that their positions would change sometime during the night, but for now they laid out like they had on Red’s nose, albeit a bit more squished on the narrow bed.

It was strange to think he’d been on a _date_ with Keith. He’d come to terms with calling it that by then, because that was exactly what it was. He hadn’t had a date since… well, since before he joined the Garrison. And even then he wouldn’t exactly count all his early teenaged fumbling as dates when he had done little more than hold hands with a girl.

“Are you feeling less stressed now?” Lance asked, raising a brow at Keith once they were both comfortable.

Keith snorted, but it was close enough to laughter to make Lance feel good. “Definitely,” he said. He fidgeted for a moment then frowned, and pushed himself upright on one arm. When he dug a hand under his pillow, he produced Lance’s little trinket. His face became red startlingly quickly.

Lance resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and took the trinket from him. “What? I want to keep it close.”

Stunned, Keith only looked at him.

Lance did roll his eyes then, but it was playful. He turned onto his side, his back facing Keith, as he tucked his trinket safely under his own pillow. He shuffled one wing over his side, exposing his back. Keith took the invitation, pressing right up against Lance’s back like he did every night. One dark wing cocooned Lance, keeping him close. Soft black feathers shifted against the exposed skin of Lance’s arms, making him sigh. He’d gotten terribly used to sleeping under Keith’s feathers.

“Goodnight,” Keith murmured, his face hidden in the fluffy feathers at the junction of Lance’s wings. He already sounded sleepy.

“Goodnight,” Lance said.

 

Their next mission took them to a strange planet overgrown by vines so thick Lance couldn’t see around them on either side. The surface looked flat and green from outside its atmosphere, but as they approached, it became clear that a canopy of twisted vines were suspended above high the ground.

According to Allura and Coran, the people of this planet were on the fence about joining the Voltron coalition. They were experts at crafting defensive shields, or at least the tech required to use them. The Galra had never been able to pierce through the outer barrier of vines on the planet, but the planet’s people had made an exception allowing Voltron to enter. It seemed like they needed convincing, or that they just needed to see who Voltron was in order to validate Voltron’s legitimacy.

When Lance thought about it, he supposed that there had probably been false claims of Voltron’s returns in the last few thousand years. It would have been impossible for there not to have been, not with so much time having passed between Allura’s hibernation and the time Lance found Blue on Earth. He hoped they seemed legitimate enough to pass the inspection of the planet’s people. Allura really wanted them to join the coalition, after all.

Since there was little chance of the Galra making an appearance, Allura docked the castle on the planet instead of sending the Paladins down in the Lions. All the Paladins were dressed in their armour, the Alteans in their royal attire, in preparation for disembarking. They had to make a good impression, so everyone had their feathers groomed neatly, not even a single one out of place.

Lance was both nervous and excited to meet the planet’s inhabitants. They were a tall, willowy species with large eyes and dainty features. Their skin – if it could be called that – was different for every being that Lance saw, but each was a gentle shade of green, beige or pale yellow. 

What really caught Lance’s attention were the wings on their backs. They weren’t wings, exactly, but the appendages were close enough that he figured he could call them that. Each species had two sets of wings that were thin and rounded, almost like a dragonfly, though he doubted the wings were long enough or strong enough to carry them even an inch off the ground. Unlike a dragonfly, their wings weren’t made from a thin membrane, but rather something more skin like, probably with a very dainty bone structure hidden underneath. They were furred, looking almost like moss, and each wing was accessorised with a thin, coloured vine coiled around the base where the wing met their back. 

Allura introduced everyone. She and Coran stood in front of the line of Paladins, looking as regal as ever. Lance had become so used to Coran’s quirky habits that it was sort of strange to see him acting so strictly. 

“It is our pleasure to host the Paladins of Voltron here on our home planet,” the leader alien said. Their voice was like wind chimes, gentle and breezy and like the breeze could pick it up and carry it away. 

“We are very glad to be here,” Allura said, her chin held high and proud. “Any questions you have, we will do our best to answer.”

The leader bowed their head low and gentle; an accepting gesture. 

Introductions were made, and then everyone was escorted indoors, or at least what passed for indoors on the planet. Lance was distracted by the vines above them – they were so high up that they almost created a new layer in the atmosphere, and looked like a mossy, green sky. Gaps between the vines allowed for light to filter through, creating dappled spots across the grassy ground. 

The planet’s trees were thicker than the ones on Earth, so Lance wasn’t terribly surprised when he found that the planet’s people built their homes on the sturdy branches and inside the trunks. There was a pretty decent amount of size inside the tree they were led into, and after climbing a flight of stairs spiralling around its walls, they emerged onto a thick, flat branch at least thirty feet above the ground.

Keith suddenly appeared beside Lance, making him jump. “They’re looking at us strangely,” Keith murmured.

“Right?” Hunk said, as he leaned closer, worrying his hands together. “I feel weird.”

“Not everyone has seen feathered wings before,” Pidge chimed in, from where they walked just slightly ahead of Lance and the others. They had their wings pressed tightly against their back; it was the only sign of their unease. 

Lance glanced around. The aliens were standing around in small groups, quietly talking in a foreign language. Some were leading them to the tables set up on the branch, dressed in thin plates of ornamental armour that make them seem more like guards than dignitaries. Others were seated. Others yet watched from other branches, perched nearby and peeking in and out from behind leaves.

Now that the others had mentioned it, they were getting some strange stares. Maybe it was because these aliens had big, brown eyes, but Lance was sure they were getting more glances than usual. There were a dozen explanations that filtered through his mind – they were Voltron, they were human, they were foreigners. As strange as the aliens looked to him, he probably looked even stranger to them. Not to mention there didn’t seem to be any birds or feathered creatures on this planet, so maybe they looked even weirder than normal.

But a little part of him felt like it was something more. Something twisted in his stomach and made him tuck his wings in tighter. He shared a glance with Keith, hoping that his face wasn’t too worried, but Keith’s frown was very telling.

The round table that they were given for the meeting was made out of wood, which wasn’t very surprising. Something like metal ran around its edge, but it looked nature made. The feet of the chairs had the same decorative metal, but were primarily made from wood like the table.

Lance was seated in between Hunk and Keith. He kept his wings as close to his back as possible as the meeting began, wondering why he was suddenly feeling so uncomfortable. It was difficult to stop himself from bouncing his leg, but he managed. It was easier when Keith snuck a hand under the table to lay it palm-up on Lance’s thigh. He threaded their fingers together and held on tightly, hoping that no one noticed what they were doing. 

It was going to be a long trip.

 

The members of Voltron were granted stay on the plant after an afternoon of meetings. Allura and Coran did most of the talking, with input from Shiro every now and then. The Paladins were mostly required to listen, and to look as respectable as they could. The aliens seemed to believe that they were legitimate, which was good. On the other hand, it meant there were more meetings ahead, so they had to stay on the planet overnight, which was less good.

As far as bedrooms went, what they were provided wasn’t too bad. There was a large open room in a neighbouring tree that had been set up for them, with seven basic beds. They were given food too, an entire platter of fruit and something vaguely bread like. Nothing compared to Hunk’s cooking, but still pretty nice. Everyone sat on the floor in a circle to eat their fill.

Lance was sort of worried about sleeping in the same room as Keith. After all, they kind of had a habit of gravitating towards each other at night. After being in the same bed for so long, Lance knew his body had become used to Keith’s presence, especially his wings. What if they woke up together and the others saw? There was no privacy in this room.

For what it worth, Keith seemed a little prickly too. He still wasn’t speaking with Shiro, despite the odd sentence here and there, and he seemed more content to eat or sharpen his knife over participating in the dinner conversation. 

When it came time to sleep, everyone picked a bed, and tried to rest. The beds were really more like a pile of very thick blankets and cushions that were as soft as pillows. There were no bedframes or furniture, but the blankets made it feel like there wasn’t a hard, wooden floor beneath them at all, so Lance couldn’t complain. Lance was situated in between Shiro and Hunk, with Keith on the other side of Shiro, so at least there would be no accidental cuddling. 

Hanging above them was a giant, round lantern. It was filled with these small, dimly glowing spheres that looked like those jelly ball things people liked to use instead of soil for plants. Its light become lower and lower as the minutes progressed, like it knew the people sleeping beneath it wanted to sleep. Lance watched it sleepily, wondering if the lantern was hanging from the highest place where the tree was hollowed out or if there was a floor above it.

He couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something more to the stares they’d received that day. He pulled the blanket up to his chin as he hid himself as far beneath his wings as he could. He was comforted by the weight of his feathers, and glad to be rid of the armour he’d had to wear on them all day. Sleeping in the black bodysuit they wore beneath the Paladin armour wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but they hadn’t brought a change of clothes with them.

Eventually he got to sleep, but that strange feeling didn’t leave him.


	27. Twenty-Seven

Another tray of fresh food was waiting for the team when they woke up. Lance hadn’t had the best night’s sleep, and he missed all his skincare products. He could practically feel the bags under his eyes deepening. Most of the morning was spent in a daze, eating whatever food Hunk passed over to him. He was miserable and he couldn’t tell anyone why, because he knew the key to his good night’s sleep was currently sitting just on the other side of Shiro.

His unease lingered as the morning meetings began. Allura and Shiro were the ones in charge of working with the planet’s inhabitants. The rest of the crew weren’t needed, so instead they would be learning about the planet to better foster the relationship between them and the native people.

“Why can’t we go back to the castle if we’re not needed in the meetings?” Lance whispered to Hunk.

“I don’t know,” Hunk said. His wings ruffled against his back, tucking in tight against his shoulders. “I don’t have a good feeling, though.”

Lance didn’t either. He knew that the way Hunk’s wings had moved hadn’t gone unnoticed by the natives with them. “I wonder what we’ll be doing today,” he murmured.

Hunk shrugged, looking as nervous as Lance felt. 

The aliens who were leading them around were rather quiet. There were three in total, two with pale blue skin, and one with a more greenish tone. All were quite tall, with long limbs and the standard short, mossy wings. Lane couldn’t pronounce their names, and didn’t think he had the right set of vocal chords to try. When their backs were turned, Lance couldn’t help but stare at the little wing-like appendages they had. They weren’t any thicker than his hands, and were only perhaps an inch or two longer than his forearms. There was little to no movement in their wings, and they didn’t seem to have the rotation that human wings had. Definitely not suited to flight.

A large tree with a wide, carved entrance at the base marked where they ascended up into the trees. Inside was much wider and hollower than Lance expected, the walls speckled with windows that looked like jagged cuts in the trunk. An interior staircase led to a high branch, but unlike the trees they’d been in the previous day, these ones were much closer to their neighbours. The branches were so close that some had fused together despite growing from completely separate trees. The result was a long series of connected pathways suspended high up in the leaves.

Very idyllic, but not when Lance felt watched from every angle.

Coran was the one speaking with the aliens. He seemed to know bits and pieces of their language, or could at least understand their body language enough to know what was going on. Lance was sort of glad to have him with them; he’d become a little too reliant on Allura and Shiro taking charge of the Paladins.

After Coran had been given the rundown of the day’s schedule, he gave them an abridged translation. “It appears they’re going to take us sightseeing,” Coran said, looking both excited and a little bit nervous. “Their planet is extremely old, so there are ancient ruins worth having a look at, among other things.”

Lance wasn’t sure what “other things” were, and it didn’t seem like Coran was sure either, so he didn’t say anything. Ruins sounded pretty cool, and he supposed it was better than sitting in meetings all day. There was room here to fly too, if they were allowed.

For what it was worth, the scenery was quite pleasant to look at. The further they strayed from the main trees, the more wild everything seemed to become. Eventually Lance started noticing things other than the aliens flitting between the trees. There were little creatures that looked like mossy lemurs, with four big eyes set into a cute face with a little black nose, and featherless wings just like the people of the planet had. There were bugs, too – some looked sort of like butterflies but with curling antennae twice the length of their body, others were lines of leaf-shaped beetles marching like soldiers across branches. None looked particularly friendly, but they weren’t interested in any of the humans walking around, so Lance felt free to look. 

“I thought this planet would be more technology-riddled,” Pidge murmured, as they fell into step between Lance and Hunk. “I haven’t seen anything yet.”

Lance hummed in agreement. “Maybe it’s just well hidden.”

“Probably.” Pidge let out a wistful sigh. “It would have been nice to see something like that. Their skills have had thousands of years to grow! Who knows what they’ve cultivated here.”

“Looks like they’ve cultivated thousands of vines,” Lance snorted, as they travelled through a patch of sunlight. He tilted his head back to look at the vines tangled far above their heads. They were beautiful, if one thought they made a nice sky (Lance did not). The vines made him miss Earth’s clouds more than ever.

It took maybe an hour or so to walk to the ruins. A shift in the wind ruffled Lance’s feathers, alerting him to a large clearing before the number of trees became thin enough for him to see it. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it probably wasn’t what he saw. The ruins were built into a wide clearing between the trees, one so big it would probably take several minutes to fly across. Not only were there ruins on the ground, but there were ruins staggered up the tree trunks, as well. Some had been moulded from wood straight from the trunk, others scattered across the lower branches. Shells of buildings with curved archways and round windows lay fragmented far beneath them. Lance had never seen anything like it.

“This is where their civilisation began,” Coran said, after the aliens had explained everything to him in a mix of their language and one the one they could all understand. “They originally lived on the ground, but migrated to the trees when it became clear that the roots were too frequently dismantling their structures.”

Lance peered down off the edge of the branch they were standing on. It was quite a long way down, but he could see that the stone-and-wood buildings had long since been abandoned. They weren’t left to degrade, but it was clear that they weren’t being maintained to perfection. He supposed this planet didn’t get things like snow or rain, not with their atmosphere of vines, so degradation from hundreds or maybe thousands of years hadn’t been too harsh.

“I feel like flying,” he said, wistful. Hunk hummed in agreement.

A chattered trill from the aliens made Lance jump.

Coran glanced over at the aliens, looking equally startled. “No flying, apparently,” he declared. “Not good.”

Lance frowned, confused. “Why?”

“There are others here who would not treat you kindly,” the tallest of the aliens murmured. They touched a hand back to their own wings. “Too valuable.”

Lance’s feathers ruffled. He pulled his wings in tight. “What do you mean?”

The alien paused, and for the first time, they looked hesitant and uneasy. They shared a small glance between themselves, but seemed to sense that the Paladins weren’t going to tolerate any sign of danger being kept from them. 

Finally, the tallest alien stepped forwards, and swept a hand out towards the trees. “Past our ruins lays another colony,” they said. Their eyes watched the tree tops, pensive. “Long ago, we were one, but not anymore. Our views differ too greatly.”

“Views on what?” Keith asked, abrasive. His feathers were starting to look sharper in the way they did when he was defensive. 

Again, the aliens paused. Then, it reached into the little embroidered pocket on its tunic, and pulled free a flat, wooden pendant about the size of Lance’s palm. When they turned it towards the Paladins, the upper facing edge was carved. Thin lines of colour sat in the carvings, marking out an image in bright oranges, yellows, greens, and blues. It took Lance’s eyes a moment to recognise the shape for what it was.

It was a bird.

Or at least, something very close to a bird. It had two wide pairs of feathered wings, and a beak. But its body was furred, not feathered, and it’s long, curling tail looked more like thick, silky hair than anything else. Lance wasn’t sure what to make of it, but even such a simple drawing of what was probably once a remarkable creature made his stomach twist strangely.

“What is that? A bird?” Pidge leaned closer, curious.

“It is a child of our–” the alien paused, and then murmured a word in their own language.

“Deity,” Coran translated, after a moment. “Or God, if you will.”

The alien nodded, and cradled the pendant in both their hands. “Many, many generations ago, these creatures ran freely on our planet. Their population was smaller than ours, but their presence was much, much larger. We were never to kill them – or at least, that is what we believed.” They gestured a hand between their companions and themselves, and Lance knew that they meant this half of the planet when they said “we”.

“I’m assuming the other half didn’t believe that, then,” Lance said.

“That is true, Paladin of Voltron,” the alien said. “They believed that these deity children were mere images of the true power, or replications, if you understand. Prior models. To them, it was an insult to have them muddle the image of a saviour they so believed in. Fundamentally, one cannot believe in a God if they can see it. If the power of their God was all the strength of this ‘bird’, then what power could a true God hold over them?”

In some wicked, twisted way, it made sense. Lance nodded despite himself. He didn’t believe in that philosophy, but it made sense when put so clinically.

“To appease both sides, we would hold a sacrifice on the brightest day of the cycle, when the God’s power was said to be the strongest. Light turned the feathers of these creatures aflame, so beautiful that I cannot even begin to describe it in any language I know. One bird with the prettiest feathers would be killed, and its best feathers turned into sacrifices for the God.”

Lance’s wings ached at the thought.

“This practice led to the value of feathers increasing expontentionally. It was forbidden to kill a bird, but that did not mean they couldn’t pluck it of all its feathers and leave it to die on its own. By the time we realised what was happening, it was too late. There were so little birds left that we hardly had even half of a decent breeding population. We hoarded the birds ourselves, desiring to protect them, but it only caused the rift between our people to grow. Before we knew it, we were hurting each other, and could no longer get along.”

“War happened,” Keith said. The words sounded so unforgiving coming from him that Lance flinched.

The alien slowly dipped its head in agreement. “Yes, Paladin of Voltron. The result was our divided planet, and only a handful of birds left living. They are remarkably long-lived, but even so, we have never gotten them to produce a single child of their own. It is as if they know that their child will be brought up in captivity or as a vessel for feathers. They do not wish for their future to be like their present.”

“If you knew it was dangerous for us to come here, why invite us?” Keith demanded.

Lifting its head, the alien levelled its gaze on Keith. “There aren’t many rumours that make their rounds to us, Paladin of Voltron. Your existence, yes, but not your – condition.”

Keith’s feathers fluffed up with something vaguely like insult. “If your people are a danger to us, then we shouldn’t be here.”

Lance agreed. He knew that the meetings were important, as was making sure the aliens believed in Voltron’s legitimacy, but that was nothing that couldn’t be done in a single visit and through electronic communications. Deep in his gut he knew that if they were caught, then they would be treated just like the birds had – as prey, prime for plucking. And sure, their feathers could grow back, but if all of their feathers were taken? If their wings were that badly damaged?

Not a chance.

A thought niggled at the back of his mind. The alien had said that their evil brethren had stolen the prettiest feathers. Lance glanced at his own brown wings and just frowned.

“Wait,” Hunk said, as he held up a hand. “You said you still have some of the birds, right?”

“Just a small aviary full,” the alien said. “If they could breed, then a decent population could grow, but they have no desire too, and cannot be forced.”

“Doesn’t that mean your people across the ruins are still trying to get them?”

“Yes. They will stop at nothing to eradicate what they believe are the false gods.”

“Then aren’t we in, like… imminent danger?”

“The presence of Voltron should deter them,” the alien said. “If we did not know of your wings, then neither did they. We are well-equipped to deal with them, if that is what you are concerned about.”

“That’s so not the point.” Hunk shook his head, worried. His wings were tight against his back, his feathers all pressed flat.

Lance glanced back towards the ruins. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, not even all the way out from here. As much as Voltron might have deterred the attention of anyone with a grudge against this half of the planet, it could have made them curious, too. His eyes scanned the trees on the other side of the clearing, but they were so far away that he couldn’t make anything out between the shifting leaves.

He almost turned away when something caught his eye. Whatever it was glinted for a second, making all his feathers rise as a shiver jolted down his spine.

Keith glanced over at him, his eyes drawn by Lance’s feathers. When he followed Lance’s gaze, his stare hardened.

He’d seen it too.


	28. Twenty-Eight

Lance knew that something was going to go wrong well before it did. He’d had a bad feeling the entire time he’d been on the planet, but he hadn’t been able to tell if it was because he was being overly cautious, or because something was not right. Both had seemed like a viable possibility. Now that he knew about the civil war going on (it could be called that, right?) he had a feeling the latter was more correct.

Waiting for the ball to drop made Lance incredibly edgy. They descended from the trees to explore the ruins for a while, but didn’t wander far away from the base of the tree trunks. Lance was torn between his immediate curiosity towards the ruins and his desire to find somewhere safer to be. It wasn’t like they could demand to be taken back to the castle, not at the risk of insulting the planet’s inhabitants. For the time being, there was nothing to do but be cautious and vigilant.

Being cautious and vigilant when he could sense danger right around the corner did nothing for Lance’s fried nerves, though.

For what it was worth, the ruins were interesting, and unlike anything he’d seen up close before. Little was left of the original structures, but there was enough to give him a basic idea of what had been there. Most of it was made from what Lance assumed was pale, rough stone, or at least close enough to it that he could call it that. The Paladins were allowed to touch the ruins, so he ran his fingers along what remained of a wall. Vines and other small vegetation had grown between the cracks and crevices, but the stone structure was still clearly definable. It almost looked like something that could’ve been found on Earth, if one searched hard enough.

It was probably around midday when Lance felt a shift in the wind. It was like suddenly smelling burnt food seconds before the smoke alarms went off, or knowing rain was going to fall the minute before the first drops hit the ground. For a moment, it felt like things went darker, despite there being no clouds above his head. Lance paused and felt apprehension slide over him like a second skin.

“What was that?” Pidge glanced up, eyebrows furrowed. Their small feathers ruffled, wings flaring ever so slightly as they tilted their head towards the tree canopy. Leaves rustled far ahead, some falling free to tumble in the careful breeze. The group had travelled back closer towards the base of the trees, exploring the buildings built from the trunks. Long shadows were cast over them, but it didn’t obscure them from view.

A silent moment passed.

“Look out!” Keith shouted, as he leapt for Lance. They crashed behind a thick, protruding tree root just as a triad of thin, metal arrows pierced the trunk above their heads. Lance let out a winded huff as his wings were crushed against the tree.

“What was that?” Hunk shouted, from where he’d dragged Pidge behind another root. His feathers were dishevelled, his eyebrows creased with worry. 

“The feather stealers,” the aliens growled. The sound was deep and threatening, and made Lance flinch. His gaze jerked up, but he couldn’t see what the aliens could. Dark shapes moved from the tops of the trees, leaping from branch to branch so fast he couldn’t track them with his eyes.

A deep, agitated frown tugged at Keith’s lips. His wings were puffed up and angry. “We need to leave,” Keith said, his fingers curled tight around Lance’s arm. “We’re too vulnerable out here!”

“I agree,” Hunk shouted. He let out a yelp as a triad of arrows lodged themselves into the root protecting him. “I definitely agree!”

Lance stumbled backwards as Keith pulled him out of the way of another barrage of arrows, his wings beating wildly. 

“Back to the castle,” Keith ordered. “We need to get back to Shiro and Allura.”

Lance launched himself into the air. He knew he shouldn’t fly, that he should protect his feathers, but there was no advantage to be found on the ground. The aliens could use the trees and the wide branches easier than a fish used water to swim. The only way to rival them was from the air.

An arrow whizzed past his head. Lance clenched his teeth and rolled out of the way, tucking his wings in tight against his back. Wind rushed by his face, and when he spread his wings again, he found himself hovering above the lower branches. From here, he could see more – Pidge and Hunk pushing off from the ground, disappearing up into the leaves, and Keith following after their alien escorts as they ascended up into the trees.

And there, on the branch below him, was the enemy.

They looked different from the aliens he knew. Physically, they were the same – pale, earthy coloured skin, short mossy wings, big eyes. But that was where the similarities ended. These ones wore darker clothes, and had quivers full of metal arrows pinned to their outer thighs. Dark, angular marks were painted across their faces and the backs of their palms, a mix of geometric and tribal looking patterns that Lance’s eyes could only just make out. They each had a feather carved from metal clasped around their throats.

One of the rebel aliens dropped to one knee and pulled free three arrows from their quiver. Lance followed their line of sight and felt his stomach drop when he saw that it was Pidge they were aiming for.

He didn’t even think before he moved. Wings pulled in, he barrelled towards the alien. They collided with a clatter of arrows as he knocked the rebel aside before crashing into the thick branch’s surface. He skidded along the wood, hands scrambling for purchase before he went pitching over its edge. He glanced up when he heard the sound of arrow’s being nocked, but saw them pointing at him, and suddenly falling seemed like a much better option. 

Free falling was never easy, even if it was only for a few mere seconds. He spread his wings wide and righted himself just in time to roll out of the way of the arrows that followed him. A flash of ink-black feathers caught his eye, so he veered towards them. Keith looked up as Lance’s shadow passed over his head – he was running along a branch, and when Lance reached down a hand, he grabbed onto it. With Lance’s added momentum, Keith took to the sky like a rocket. 

“The aliens will lead us back, we need to keep up,” Keith said, as they darted over a branch. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Lance said, breathless with exertion. “Where’s Hunk and Pidge?”

He caught sight of them flying ahead. Hunk’s wings were like a shade keeping most of Pidge hidden, but the trees weren’t thick enough to keep them shielded. They ducked out of the way of a shower of metal arrows, but it was close. One of Hunk’s feathers fell free but was instantly snatched up by a dark hand.

Fear gripped Lance. His feathers tingled in that way they did when he thought about them getting hurt. He spread his wings wide, halting himself mid-air. There were rebels climbing the trees higher than him on both sides, and a string of them jolting after Hunk and Pidge. He watched as one nocked three arrows, and sent them flying towards Pidge with so much fluidity it looked like they were moving through water.

“Lance, move!” Keith shouted, as he shoved Lance aside. Lance went spiralling into a tree trunk as three arrows pierced the air where he’d been hovering. He back-pedalled, wings ruffling, and dove for the ground. “Lance!”

“I’ll meet you back that way!” Lance shouted, as he pointed a finger towards the castle. Keith looked clearly unhappy, but the situation was moving too fast for him to argue with Lance, so he gritted his teeth and took off towards the other two Paladins.

Lance dropped himself down on a branch and tried to take in the situation. He couldn’t calculate the amount of rebels that had found them, they were moving too fast for him to possibly see. They seemed to form teams of three, and each fired three arrows. A triad was buried into the wood by him, so he yanked one free, and was shocked by the feel of it. The arrow was made from metal, from tip to end, but it wasn’t like anything he’d come across before. It was weighty towards the head, but when he balanced it on two fingers, it sat level and steady.

A rustle in the leaves above him had him tightening his fingers around the arrow. He rolled out of the way as arrows flew towards him. Six – no, nine aliens were darting along the branches on either side of him. He tried to watch them, but they blended in with the leaves, and darted around quicker than hummingbirds.

Lance threw himself off the branch. He spread his wings wide and curved around the trunk, trying to catch sight of Keith. He saw a flash of black feathers, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

He knew his teammates had beautiful wings. The bright light coming down from in between the overhead vines casted dappled patterns across their feathers, and only served to highlight just how beautiful they truly were. Fear for his teammates made his knees feel weak.

A sudden pain ripped through his right wing.

Lance cried out as a burst of his feathers plumed in the air. An arrow pierced the outer feathers, bursting through the other side to imbed itself in a branch beside him. It’s matching two arrows swiftly followed, but he dove out of the way before they hit him.

“Lance!”

He rolled onto a branch, his right wing hunched against his shoulders. The arrow hadn’t pierced his flesh, but even having it rip through his feathers was excruciating. A trio of aliens landed on the same branch as him, their arrows drawn, arrowheads glinting in the light. A flash of back caught his attention.

“No, Keith!” Lance shouted, as he held out a hand. “Keep going!”

Keith swooped down in a fury of feathers. He crashed into the aliens, sending them rocketing off the branch. His feet were heavy as he thudded across the branch, grabbing Lance by the arm to haul him back into the air. “We have to hurry, Lance!” He snarled. 

Lance beat his wings furiously, trying to ignore the pain. Keith jerked him forwards, his wings spread wide over Lance. Pidge and Hunk dropped down from above them after a few tense moments, looking panicked and flushed with exhaustion. Lance could see their alien escorts chasing off the rebels, but they had nothing more than daggers to fight with, which were no good against long distance arrows.

For a moment, when they broke through a thick cluster of leaves, Lance felt like they’d made it. He could see the castle glinting between the trees in the distance, but it was still so far away. No one knew they were being hunted. He didn’t even know where Coran had ended up once they’d taken to the air.

There was a loud noise, like the sound of air exploding. Lance felt something rush by him, and then suddenly he was spiralling, his hand torn away from Keith’s. He crashed through leaves and boughs until he got his wings under him, and scrabbled to made sense of what happened.

He looked up just in time to see Pidge taken down by a net.

Pidge cried out as their wings were tangled in the metal rope. An alien covered in dark markings snatched them out of the air, hauling them up against a branch. Another burst of air resounded through the forest, and he dove out of the way as a net sailed over his head.

“Keith, Hunk, watch out!” Lance shouted, but his voice was lost in the ringing hum of battle. Another net flew through the air, metal ropes expanding as they fell across Hunk’s wings. He crashed into a branch so hard it snapped, and was quickly hauled out of the air, despite his frantic fighting. Lance scrambled to his feet, diving across the branch he stood on. His wings thrashed through the air in his panic to get to Hunk.

“Lance, watch out!” Keith shouted. He pitched down from above, hauling Lance out of the air like he weighed nothing, but he was a moment too late. The net tangled around Lance’s feet, yanking him from Keith’s grip. He fell through the air limp and frightened, his arms peddling. A pained shout left him as he fell sideways across a branch, winding him.

At some point, he must have hit his head, because his eyes were definitely spinning. He looked up and watched, painfully helpless, as Keith was hit by a net from behind. The rebels tore him from the air, their arrows pointed at him. 

Lance had never felt so frightened.

A siren shattered through the trees, coming from the direction of the castle. Lance could hear trees rustling, like the distant sound of a storm coming. 

Aliens dropped down on either side of him, pinning his wings to the branch. He kicked at the nets, but they only tightened around his legs.

“Leave this one,” an alien hissed from a higher branch, as it watched Lance struggle. “The alarm has been sounded, we must leave.”

“But the feathers–”

“We have the nicest ones,” the alien snarled, its face scrunching up. “Leave the plain ones, they are of no use to us, not with better ones ready to pluck. The Gods have no liking for feathers the colour of… _dirt.”_

Lance cried out as his wings were forced back. A handful of feathers were ripped free, but were thrown back over him, useless and crumpled; the culprit snarled, like Lance’s feathers had offended and disgusted them. 

Within seconds, the aliens had disappeared back into the trees, but not before a last kick was aimed at his head. The force of it rolled him off the branch, and as he held on by his fingertips, he saw his friends being dragged away like animals. “Keith…!” He tried to haul himself up, but he was so dizzy…

Arrows landed between his fingers, and Lance jerked away, falling free from the branch. He gasped and tried to right himself, but his head smacked against another branch, snapping forwards hard enough to crack his neck even with the Paladin armour on. His aching head spun, his wings limp and numb as he tumbled through the undergrowth. There was a sickening thud as he hit the ground, slumped over a knotted, protruding root. 

“Lance!” 

Keith sounded so distant…

His head lolled to the side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me ages to write, sorry for the wait! I've been really busy lately, and it's been so hot that all my motivation has drained away. Hopefully the next chapter won't take this long! ^^"


	29. Twenty-Nine

Lance woke with a blinding pain thumping in the back of his head. A pitched whine left his parched throat as he tried to straighten, but found himself unable to. His wings were twisted under him and ached something fierce when he moved, so much so that a spike of fear went through him. He was terrified he’d broken one, but after taking a deep breath, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

But he was very injured. The place where he’d been shot was irritated, the feathers surrounding the wound snapped and broken. While the arrow shaft was thin, it had been unforgiving. A human’s wings may be structured like a bird’s, with the wing joint extending down from the lower part of their shoulder blades, but their feathers were very different. The feathers closest to the wing bone were incredibly sensitive, and their larger feathers, the ones towards the end of the wing, were still filled with blood, like pin feathers. Plucking them or having them snap was quite painful, compared to the harmless, downy feathers they naturally shed. 

If the arrow had been even two inches higher, it would have been ten times more painful. Lance carefully cradled his wing close and considered himself lucky to be shot as low as he had. He’d have a sparse patch in his wing once he’d pulled all the broken feathers free, and it was going to be painful to regrow them. Looking at the hideous state of his wings made his breath vanish. Tears gathered in his eyes. A furious pity welled up in his chest, hot and vile. He wanted to rip all of his feathers out, wanted to make them as ugly as he knew they were.

He’d never been so furious with himself.

Groaning, Lance pushed himself upright. He was slumped against a tree root thicker than he was tall, and after digging his fingers into a dip in the knotted wood, he hauled himself up on top of it. Emptiness lingered between the trees, silence so thick it made his skin crawl with unease. There was nothing flitting between the trees, nothing rustling the leaves, not even a light wind or a stray bug.

It took several minutes for his head to stop throbbing. He fluttered his wings experimentally, and let out a pained moan as the muscles in his back protested. Flying was completely out of the question. There was no way of telling which direction was back to the castle, not without a view from high in the trees, where ground-coverage and lunging roots gave way to open space. 

After taking a deep breath, he climbed up onto a higher root, and began to look for arrows. It wasn’t hard to spot them, not when the late afternoon sun made them glint when looked at from the right angle. He counted most of them in trios, finding at least thirty sticking out from trees and branches. He could only count the ones on the lower parts of the trees, and didn’t include anything he was too low to see.

Most of the arrows were facing the same direction. Lance had to clamber over the roots and drag himself further away from where he’d woken up to check the rest of the arrows, but they were much the same. If they were all sticking in the same direction, then it pointed him back towards the direction he’d been flying before he’d been shot: the castle. 

It felt like hours were passing as he trekked in what he hoped was the right direction. The light filtering in from the tree canopies was waning, as was his energy. His eyelids were heavy, and every step made his bones ache with exhaustion. Every part of him felt slow, and no matter how alert he tried to made himself be, he couldn’t manage to watch his surroundings for more than a few moments at a time. 

Night had crept in before Lance finally saw lights. He could have cried with relief, and with a renewed burst of energy, he stumbled through the foliage as fast as he could. 

“Shiro,” he cried, as he broke through the undergrowth into the light, where hanging lanterns lit the pathways between the hollowed trees and their branches. 

His cries brought the aliens down from the trees. One with a gentle face and light blue skin caught him as his knees buckled, their willowy limbs keeping him from hitting the ground. They held him upright, but were unsteady when he slumped, the weight of his wings too much to life anymore.

“Paladin of Voltron, keep yourself stable,” the alien encouraged, their voice tinged with concern. “You are safe here.”

“My friends,” he started, but he was cut off by Shiro’s quick descent from the branch above them, his arm firm around Allura’s waist as he carried her down. Lance had never been so glad to see the two of them in his life. 

“Lance!” Shiro took Lance away from the alien, and lowered him to his knees. He dragged one hand along Lance’s injured wing bone, spreading the wing wide. His breath hitched at the sight of Lance’s injured feathers. “Were you _shot?”_

“Yes,” Lance whimpered, pulling his wing back in as a stinging pain shot through his shoulder blade. “They took the others, Shiro. They have Keith! They took Hunk and Pidge!”

“We know, Lance,” Allura soothed, as she dropped to Lance’s other side. Her arm went around his waist, prompting him to put his around her shoulders. With Shiro’s help, they managed to get him back to his feet.

“Have you found Coran?” Lance demanded. “He was out there, we left him on the ground–”

“He made it back an hour ago,” Shiro interrupted. “He was frantic, but uninjured. He couldn’t find any of the Paladins and made his way back, hoping you’d flown here.”

Allura was strong, but the weight of Lance’s limp wings and shaking legs were dragging her down. “Shiro, can you take him back up to the room? He looks like he’s going to pass out.”

“I’ve got him.” Shiro put both his arms around Lance’s waist, and spread his big wings out, his feathers flaring. They were so big that they eclipsed the majority of Lance’s line of sight. “Hold on, Lance. We’re going up.”

The motion of Shiro’s wings rearing back and then propelling them upwards made Lance’s stomach churn. He groaned, head lolling as they ascended. Shiro set them down on a branch, his grip on Lance firm, but Lance still felt like he’d left his stomach on the ground. Shiro set him down before Lance collapsed himself.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere, Lance,” Shiro said, as he tucked his wings back in and urged Lance to keep his still. “It’s impossible to move through these trees in the dark. We thought they’d taken you, too.”

Everything in Lance felt twisted up inside when he recalled why he hadn’t been taken. It made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes fluttered, and he hunched in on himself. He was faintly aware of Allura arriving on the branch, having climbed the interior staircase, and the aliens clamouring around them, tense and stony. 

“Shiro, I think I’m going to pass out,” Lance warbled, as his vision began to go fuzzy.

With a hand pressed against the space between Lance’s wing bones, Shiro urged him to lie down, and while being flat eased the pressure in his head, it did nothing to stop his eyes from closing on their own.

He was only out for two hours, tops. He woke up inside the tree, laid out on a thick blanket with his wings nudged open on either side of him. Some of his damaged feathers had been pulled free, leaving the area smarting. Bandages were wound around the injury, tucked underneath the surrounding feathers to lay flat around his wing. He could tell it was Shiro who had bandaged him – no one else would have shifted his feathers to overlap the bandage, knowing it would be more comfortable that way. 

There was commotion outside, and it made Lance perk up. His body ached to rest, but he kicked off the light blanket covering him, and formed himself upright. There was a glass of water beside him, so he downed it, and then stood. He wobbled for a moment, but was ultimately alright to walk.

More lanterns had been lit. Night had truly fallen, but the light being emanated from within the tree trunks and along the branches made it almost blindingly bright outside. Lance squinted against the light, holding up a hand to shield his eyes as they adjusted.

The planet’s people were out in full force. Many had donned light armour, particularly on their torso and forearms. Quivers were strapped to their thighs. Lance couldn’t understand the language they spoke, but it was all short and clipped, enough for him to discern battle orders. He watched them as his mind chased away any lingering dizziness, before he spotted Shiro and Allura amongst the fray.

Shiro was decked out in full armour, including his helmet. Allura had her hair up, and a stern look on her face, one befitting a leader. She was speaking quickly, her brows drawn in tight. She noticed him as he approached, and the conversation was diverted.

“Are you alright, Lance?” She asked, her hand coming up to grip his shoulder. “You should be resting–”

“My friends are out there,” Lance snapped, before he could help himself. Guilt was starting to sink in, thick and as unmoveable as oil. It made his insides feel rotten. “Keith is out there! We have to save them!”

“We know, Lance, we’re working on it,” Allura said, her voice strict. His budding anger was quelled by her tone, even though she wasn’t being cruel. He wasn’t mad at her, he was mad at himself. There was no way he could put those tangled feelings into words, but she seemed to understand.

“Did they tell you about the rebels?” Lance demanded, as he tried not to let desperation bleed into his voice. He glanced between Allura and Shiro and didn’t let himself read deeply into their concerned expressions.

Allura shot the aliens standing with them an angered look. “Yes, they did.” Her fingers tightened on Lance’s shoulder. “We know what’s at stake, Lance.”

“Their feathers…” He started, but his voice trailed off as his throat clamped up. He thought of Keith’s pretty feathers being cruelly torn out and wished that he’d been taken in Keith’s place instead.

But his wings weren’t pretty enough. They were ugly, and useless.

Worth less than dirt.

He compressed that thought until it felt smaller than he was and forced it away. If he caved now because he hated his wings then he’d never forgive himself, not while Keith and Hunk and Pidge were stuck out there. What if they were being hurt while he’d been passed out? What if their feathers were being yanked out? He felt sick thinking of Pidge’s little feathers being forcibly removed, of gentle Hunk being in pain and injured. 

Of Keith getting hurt, and his wings never being the same again.

“What’s the plan?” Lance asked, when he’d caught his breath. He clenched his fists until he could feel his nails biting into his palms, and then eased his grip. “Tell me.”

Shiro paused, but dipped his head in a nod. “The aliens sent scouts ahead to find where the others are being held,” Shiro said. “The layout of their city hasn’t changed much in the last hundred years, so we’re fairly certain we know where they are. We’re preparing to move out.”

Lance nodded along, trying to process the information as fast as he could. As advanced as these people were, there were parts to their history that were stagnant. It seemed that after their people split, they each set up a city on either side of the ruins, and that was that. Lance doubted much had changed at all in the last dozen years, maybe even the last hundred. As isolated as they were from the rest of the universe, the only strife they came across was their own.

Until now.

“I want to come with you,” Lance said.

“You can’t keep up, not with your wing injured like this,” Shiro said, firm. “I had to pull out half a dozen feathers, and those were only the ones in the way of the wound. It needs to be properly treated.”

Lance scowled, feeling his guilt and his fear for his friends well up inside of him. His mind raced to find a solution, and then it hit him.

“Just because I can’t fly doesn’t mean I can’t _fly,”_ he said, his expression daring Shiro to argue with him. There was nothing that was going to stop him from getting his friends back. He’d never forgive himself if they were hurt because of him. “I’m a Paladin of Voltron, and my Lion is as much a part of me as my wings are. If I can’t carry myself, then Blue will do it for me.”


	30. Thirty

Blue greeted him with stony silence, sitting tall in the castle hangars. Lance felt their connection snap into place as he neared, her restlessness responding to the frantic unease clutching at his pulse. She cut an imposing figure in the hangar bay, waiting impatiently for him to return to her. He’d had to run all the way from the trees to reach the castle, but despite his exhaustion, he felt restless and overfull with energy, like everything in him was spilling over the edges and he had no way to stop it.

He had to save Keith. He had to save Hunk. He had to save Pidge. His friends needed him, and nothing was going to stand in his way, not even his own insecurities and weaknesses. 

He boarded Blue and got her running as quickly as he could. It was different flying out on his own; lonelier. Both he and his Lion were used to the company of the others, were used to the presence of all Paladins and Lions working together to form one strong unit. Sometimes he liked the solitude, but not then. A small part of him wished that Shiro had accompanied him, so that there’d be two Lions flying, but he knew that couldn’t happen. One was risky enough: there was no guarantee Blue could fit through the tree canopy, not with the size of the vegetation on this planet. He didn’t know what technology the other aliens had, and if it would be dangerous for his Lion. 

Going on foot with the aliens and their weapons was the smart option, but Lance couldn’t do that. His wings were too damaged. But he wouldn’t regret his decision – he couldn’t, not when he knew what was at stake. Blue wouldn’t let him regret it, either. Her reassurances felt as sure as the ocean; deep and bottomless, wide and all encompassing. She trusted his instinct without even a moment of hesitation, and in return, he would trust her faith in him.

Lance flew out of the hangar bays and back in the direction of the city hidden in the trees. He did a scan of the forest, and found a moving signal coming from a tracker Shiro had activated shooting off into the distance. He steered Blue after them. They were quite a ways away – it had taken him some time to get back to the castle, and by then the group had already set out on the rescue mission. By the time they met up, the group on the ground had reached the ruins. They weren’t taking the scenic route, or being as slow-paced as they had been before, when it was just a tourist trip. There was intent behind their movements.

Blue shuddered to a stop as Lance slowly descended towards the tangled see of green that the top of the trees made. He could see where the ruins began – the lack of leaves and vegetation was like a giant crater, standing out so starkly against the rest of the planet that it sparked a wave of unease in him. He didn’t know whether trees had been removed to make way for the ruins before they were abandoned, or if the space had been naturally cleared away by something else, but it made him recoil either way. From the air, it felt like only a great force of wind or a rupturing of the earth beneath the roots of the giant trees could cause a clearing that large to form.

“Lance, can you hear me?”

He startled at the sound of Shiro’s voice crackling in his ear. After flicking on a switch, he heard the tell-tale click of his communications line opening. “I’m above you.”

“The trees are too thick for us to see you through them unless you block out the light, so try and stay hidden on our left,” Shiro said.

Lance leaned Blue slightly away from the group. They were rounding around the clearing now, gliding through the trees like liquid. He could see their heat signatures on his scanners, and while distinguishing the aliens apart from one another was impossible, he could tell which was Shiro, purely from the speed and size of him. “Where’s Allura?”

“She and Coran went back to the castle,” Shiro informed him.

Lance nodded, though Shiro couldn’t see him doing it. If Allura and Coran were powering the castle, then communicating would be easier, and they could provide back up. Lance knew for sure that the castle would have trouble fitting in between the atmosphere of twisted vines and the tops of the trees, but that didn’t mean they were useless. 

Tense silence filled the communications line. Lance rounded Blue around the clearing, but was careful to hang back a bit. Blue could move significantly faster than anyone on the ground, wings or otherwise, but he still had some catching up to do. 

His scanners hadn’t picked up any heat signatures yet. He sent out a broader signal once, then twice, before finally finding something as they reached the other side of the clearly. It was like the planet had been split directly in half: the rebel city was just about the same distance away from the ruins as the friendly one. Lance struggled to comprehend how such a uniform species could be so divided over a single opinion. 

“Are you going to be okay on your own down there, Shiro?” Lance asked, when the question burned at the back of his mouth for too long. His wings were still aching from the beating they’d taken, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of Shiro getting hurt, too.

“I’ll be fine, Lance,” Shiro said. He sounded sure of himself. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Lance winced.

“What we need to focus on is rescuing the others, alright? I don’t think injuring anyone will solve anything. These aren’t the type of… people who we can reason with. There’s too many cultural differences. We have to get the others, and leave.”

“Yeah.” Lance tried not to sound breathless. He wasn’t even the one flying at a rapid pace, and yet he sounded exhausted, even to his own ears. “What’s the plan?”

“Our allies will take care of the rebels,” Shiro said. “Their fighting styles are essentially the same, just like their cities. Two sides of a coin.”

“Right. And us? What’ll we do?”

“I’ve been told where the others should be being held captive,” Shiro replied. There was a beat of silence as his little heat signature veered around a particularly large tree trunk. “We’ll head straight in. You’ll cover me from the sky. Can you see their city on Blue’s scanners?”

He could, now that he was looking. A swarm of signatures were approaching. “Shiro–!”

“I know,” Shiro interrupted. The allies spread out on either side of him, forming a crescent that steadily progressed through the trees. The rebels did the same, so that when they met, they fit neatly against one another. Lance could hardly believe that both sides would use the exact same battle tactics, even knowing precisely what their enemy would do. Every move was predetermined, every action predictable almost down to the very minute it was carried out.

It was madness. Organised, calm, predictable madness.

Lance knew then that nothing would ever change for these people.

Shiro burst right through the rebel’s front line. Lance followed him from the sky and tried to ignore the urge to break through the canopy. He didn’t know if the rebels were aware of Blue’s presence, but he wasn’t keen to find out. 

A grunt came though the communications line. Shiro’s heat signature rolled to the ground, and the sound of leaves snapping against him echoed through the communications line. Lance could hear the faint buzz of Shiro’s Galra hand activating, and then the clatter of metal on metal. Shiro’s figure didn’t waver.

“You good?” He asked anyway.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Shiro’s wings swooped open loud enough for Lance to hear the wind rush against his feathers. 

He slowed Blue down, circling her around Shiro’s descending figure. The scanners were picking up more heat signatures, and he watched as Shiro rushed them. He could hear metal grinding against metal and the sound of wood creaking as branches were landed on heavily, and then nothing but Shiro’s laboured breathing. He didn’t gasp or groan with pain, so Lance forced himself not to worry. Shiro was probably the best hand-to-hand fighter out of all of them.

“I think this is it,” Shiro murmured. He dropped to the ground, and the sound of something rattling – a cage? – could be heard. “Keith?”

Lance couldn’t hear a reply, but he heard something metal break, and then the whine of a gate being opened.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” Shiro said. 

Something in Lance pulled at the back of his mind, urging him to look elsewhere. It was a nagging instinct, one that he blatantly tried to force away, then stopped when he realised what he was doing. Gut instincts were the sort of things he’d learned not to ignore.

More heat signatures were rushing back to Shiro’s location. They were bigger and faster than the aliens, and didn’t appear to be entirely living. Lance could see riders on the creature’s back and wondered, briefly, if they’d made Lions of their own. 

“Shiro!” He called.

Only static replied. One by one his screens began to flicker, and Blue’s connection wavered. Half of them blipped out, completely turned off, but with a shake of her head, Blue thundered back to life. Whatever they were using to jam her signals was only half-working, and despite the dread that inched down Lance’s spine, he was encouraged by Blue’s resistance.

Not even these people could stand up to the might of a Lion of Voltron. 

Lance urged Blue forwards. She dove down through the air, gaining enough speed to break through the canopy with one big roar that shook the leaves around them. It was tight between the tree trunks, but Blue could break through the branches with ease.

The rebel aliens _were_ riding something. Lance caught sight of them as they descended towards where Shiro had been moments before, coming in from all angles both on the ground and in the trees. They looked like creatures made from wood and metal, shaped like big foxes with sharp faces, bared teeth and talons instead of paws. Metal claws ripped through the tree bark like it was made from paper, propelling them from one branch to the next with the help of a curved, sail-like piece of metal extending from the back of their head down to where the rider sat. A similar piece of flat metal bowed down like a tail from the flank of each creature, shifting like a rudder to angle each jump.

Lance had no idea what they were, but he figured they were no match for Blue’s ice.

With a road of his own, he activated Blue’s ice ray. Light condensed in between her open jaws, and in one powerful rush, a beam of solid ice descended towards the ground in a wide arch. He wedged half a dozen of the creatures in the freezing spray, cementing them where they stood. One jerked out of the way, but Blue’s ice clipped its hind legs, sending both it and its rider tumbling through the undergrowth. 

Closer to the ground, Lance could see where Shiro had disappeared to. The inside of a hollow tree had been sealed away by a metal gate, the lock of which sat slumped on the ground beside the swinging door. He could see a descending staircase within the tree, hiding what was probably an underground holding cell. 

Anger filtered through him like a crackle of lightning. His friends were not prisoners, nor prizes to be hunted down and plucked. If he’d only protected them–

He’d protect them now.

Lance rolled Blue out of the way as one of the creatures suddenly appeared on a branch in front of him. He barely had enough space to move as the creature’s mouth spread open, and a metal net big enough to entangle one of Blue’s paws was ejected. It clattered against a tree, and the weights holding down each edge expanded at the contact, permanently fixing the net to the tree’s trunk as electricity crackled along its surface. 

There was no telling what an electrically-charged net would do to Blue.

Lance gritted his teeth as he urged Blue to release another stream of ice. It missed the creature, but froze the branch solid. He swung Blue in an arch, creating a barrier of ice to his left. They’d need to scale it to get through – the closeness of the tree trunks was finally working in his favour.

With a grunt, he landed Blue on the ground in front of the broken gate, her tail thrashing. The impact jarred his wings but he ignored the pain. Blue took a protective stance, her head tossed up with the anger she could feel thrumming through him. A deafening roar escaped her. 

It felt like the world rattled in response.

No one would ever hurt his friends again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! This update marks the beginning of my fourth year of continuous daily writing, and I'm really glad I've kept it up for this long ^^ I hope the new year treats everyone well, and that you enjoy what's to come! ❤


	31. Thirty-One

There was something about the fright of battle that made Lance’s head buzz with muffled silence. Everything narrowed, became sharper; a filter of urgency blanketed all that he could see and hear. Mistakes were louder, brighter; accomplishes dimmed themselves so that the resulting wave of relief didn’t blind what needed to be seen.

Blue’s ice was holding up against the mechanical creatures. The more Lance got a solid look at them, the easier they became to see, even as they leapt between trees faster than his eyes could track. It became clear to him that there was one more difference between their allies and the rebels: where the allies favoured defensive shields, the rebels preferred offensive weapons. It made sense once he realised that – the allies had the birds the rebels wanted, and therefore had to defend them. They were the shield to the rebel’s spear. Their creatures were something out of science fiction.

But that didn’t mean anything to him when it was Blue facing the creatures. Blue didn’t have a shield, not in the same way Green did, and Lance didn’t have the technological or mechanical capabilities that some of his teammates did to give him an advantage. He had no idea what would happen to his Lion if she was hit by the rebels’ electrified nets, or if he’d be able to reboot her if she powered down. 

All he knew was how to fly. He knew how to activate her ice ray, and her sonic cannon. That had to be enough.

The ice seemed to be working. He blasted another layer up the wall on his left, watching it crackle and spread up the tree trunks and through hundreds of leaves like it had a mind of its own. Layers of frost were spider-webbing further and further up into the trees, until the green was obscured by a layer of fractured blue. 

“See if you can get through _that,”_ he muttered. 

He swung Blue around to face the aliens approaching from his right. He was satisfied that they couldn’t blindside him from the left, leaving him free to focus his attention on the trees left bare from ice. Blue let out a warning rumble. Lance felt it echoed deep in his throat.

There were half a dozen creatures left, crouched on low branches and underneath wide leaves. Wary of Blue’s ice, they never stilled, always moving and darting and twisting out of the way of Blue’s snapping jaws. Lance pulled back on her controls, stopping her from lunging forwards to crush one of the creatures between her teeth.

He tried tapping into Shiro’s communication line, but it was static. “Shiro?” He tried. 

There was no reply. They must have been too far underground, or something solid must be blocking the signal. Irritation fluttered through him. Lance had never fought alone, had never piloted completely blind without his other Paladins to talk to. The only times the communication lines had gone dark was during battles with the Galra, and even then it was an exceedingly rare occurrence. 

Lance clenched his teeth. 

He drove Blue forwards with a jerk of the controls. She lunged, eager to follow his commands. Her claws ripped up a section of the ground as she swiped, but the creatures leapt out of the way, ruthlessly nimble. He swung Blue around, urging her forwards again. Her heavy paw caught one, crushing it until it splintered. Wood and metal grinded apart under the weight of the Lion, its rider thrown off into the undergrowth. 

The sound of crackling electricity made Lance instinctively duck. Blue crouched out of the way as an electrified net sailed over her heads. He tilted her up and let out a beam of ice, freezing the offending creature against the branch it was hunched against. Another tried to dart between Blue’s legs, but Lance reared her up and threw her back down, crushing the creature beneath her giant paw. 

Out of nowhere, a hot jolt of electricity streaked up Lance’s left arm. He cried out, his body tensing up for several moments before he jerked away from Blue’s controls. The Lion wobbled, and then slumped to the ground on the front left side, her leg unmoveable. Lance frantically tapped at his scanners, taking stock of Blue’s body. Her entire left side was lit up with flashing red – one of the nets was stuck to the junction where her leg met her torso. The weights on the ends of the net were magnetised, keeping it stuck firm, even when he tried to shake it off.

Something akin to fear made Lance’s mouth go dry. He took a hold of Blue’s controls and heaved her forwards, but felt the drag of the leg. Frantically, his eyes darted over his controls. He wasn’t good with the inner workings of machines, not like Pidge or Hunk. How was he meant to combat electrical pulses?

Panicked, Lance slammed his hand down on one of the panels. 

Blue jerked as if something had thrown her. There was a terrible whirring sound, and then the red lights disappeared, and light flooded back through the scanners. Lance wasn’t sure what he’d hit, but it had sent a surge of energy through the Lion, and the weights on the net were blown off. Trails of smoke marked their path through the air.

“That worked?” He said, sinking back in his seat as far as his injured wings would allow. “That worked, Blue! We’re good!”

Blue rumbled.

Feeling a spark of confidence, Lance fired up her ice ray again. He urged her into the air and used the tree behind him as a platform to spring off. Barrel rolling out of the way of a pair of flying nets, he twisted Blue over herself, and sent a line of ice along the ground and up the base of the tree, around the side of the gate. A second joined it, running parallel – a safe path for his friends to exit through. 

A crackling in his ear made him jump. He tapped at his helmet with a free hand, trying to keep an eye on the darting creatures as he did. “Hello? Allura?”

“… Lance!”

Her voice was fragmented but there. Lance grunted as another jolt of electricity shot up his hands, coming from the left side again. Blue careened through the air and crashed against her wall of ice, splitting it. When the electricity left his hands, Lance jerked her head sideways to repair it, hoping that the surge of energy from the ice ray would be enough to disrupt the signals sent from the magnetised rope weights. It was.

“Lance! Lance, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he bit out. Truthfully, he could feel the little hairs on his arms standing on edge, and was sort of afraid they’d been singed off. “Where are you?”

“In the castle, I can see you on the scanners. What’s happening? Where are the others?”

“Underground,” he said. A net sailed past his vision, so he pushed Blue off the ground, and directed her back to the gate opening. “Shiro went in after them, but I can’t reach him. Can you?”

“No. I’m getting conflicted readings of Blue–”

“It’s the rebels, they have these– animals, sort of– more like machines, they’re firing electrified nets.”

“Can Blue fight the surge?”

“Yeah, yeah I think.” He grunted as a net slammed into Blue’s right flank. His right arm buzzed at the resulting jolt, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes, feeling like he’d been put in a microwave. Blue’s right hind leg caved, but Lance thrust all of her weight forwards so that she didn’t topple over. It took longer than before for a resulting surge from Blue to fight off the net.

Lance pressed her up, shaking off the jolt. He powered up the ice ray and released a blast in a wide arch, freezing the trees and anything hiding in them. Sweat broke out on his skin as he felt Blue pull on his energy. He was using too much too fast, but he didn’t stop until everything around him was covered in a layer of frost. 

It was like winter had fallen.

Little signals suddenly appeared on his scanners. Panting, he tapped at the screens, trying to get a better look. It took a moment for him to understand what it was.

His team.

Relief snatched the air from his lungs. He turned Blue around, nestling her in the walkway of ice so that the others could embark. “Hurry, hurry, hurry,” he muttered under his breath. He didn’t know how many of those creatures were still up and running, or what had happened with the rest of the rebels. He didn’t want to know what other weapons they had hidden in their trees.

Some deeply instinctual part of him knew when his team were safely aboard. Maybe it was Blue telling him they were safe, or his fight or flight instincts telling him it was time to go. Either way, he pulled Blue back up, and broke free of the ice pathway encasing her in.

Footsteps echoed in his cockpit. He spared a single glance over his shoulder – Shiro had Keith slumped against him, but fierce indigo eyes met his, and everything in him felt like it was unravelling – but the battle called away his attention.

After a powerful bound across the ground, Blue took off into the air. He rolled her a tree, crashing through leaves and branches alike. He could hear Allura’s voice in his ear, but she wasn’t talking to him.

Something clipped Blue’s back paw. He cried out as she unbalanced and crashed into the ground, skidding a good length through the dirt. Undergrowth snapped as she broke through stems and branches, kicking up trails of dust. He dug her claws into the ground, rounding her back against a tangled, protruding branch. 

There was no time in between his vision focusing and the two nets that clamped around Blue’s neck. Electricity sparked at his controls, jolting up his arms like a living spider web. He cried out as fire scorched his bones. He heard his name – Keith calling his name – but it was drowned out by the shrill crackle of electricity. The lights in Blues cockpit went out as her front half lolled forwards, as limp as machinery could be. 

Lance felt like he’d been cradled by lightning. Brightness flashed before his eyes as the last tendrils of electricity crackled off his armour. It had protected him from the worst of it, and he could tell he wasn’t seriously hurt, but he felt like he was so charged that anything he touched would catch fire.

He rocked to his feet, his stiff hand going for his thigh. There was a flash of light as his Bayard settled in his palm, and with a shout, he thrust it into the slot on Blue’s panels. 

The cockpit instantly filled with blue. Her consciousness flooded him, a downpour of energy and _her._ Blue rose to her feet and threw her head back. Lance stepped a foot back to balance himself as the cockpit tiled up. There was a flash of white light as Blue’s sonic cannon emerged.

Blue’s ferocious roar drowned out his shout. A piercing sound signalled the winding up of the cannon, like it was sucking all the sound from the air. A single moment of silence reigned, and then the cannon unleased a visible wave of sound.

Branches and leaves flew backwards. Some snapped, jumbling through the air like a hurricane had come to play. The remaining two creatures were picked off the ground like toys and thrown backwards, their riders dismantled. Both creatures were torn apart by the sound wave, wrenched to splinters and sheets of metal. 

In the wake of the soundwave, Lance fell back into his seat, and Blue leapt upwards. She crashed through branches until she broke free of the canopy. Lance twisted at the controls, and ice condensed between her cracked open jaws. A beam froze the upper atmosphere of tangled vines. Desperation drove Lance to fly Blue straight for them.

There was a moment of resistance, and then the sound of ice shattering. Thousands of sparkling shards erupted around them, like he’d thrown himself into water. Blue’s controls adjusted to space’s zero-gravity automatically, and then he was flying her back towards the castle, his Lion and his team safely shielded by the vines that hid the entirety of the planet.

Slowly, the electricity left his veins, and with it went the fright of battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite pleased with the way the action sequences came out with this. It's something I usually struggle with quite a lot (hence why these last few chapters have taken longer than usual to come out) but I feel like I'm making headway! One day action will come naturally to me haha


	32. Thirty-Two

The castle rose into view as Lance descended back through the vines. His ears were still ringing with the vibrations of Blue’s thunderous roar. Fleetingly, he wondered if he’d gone deaf, but banished the idea. He could hear over the buzz in his mind if he tried; he just didn’t have the concentration right then to achieve that.

Coran and Allura were waiting in the hangar bay when Lance all but clashed into it. He managed to steady Blue on her feet before she slumped, all their energy gone. Lance powered her down and yanked off his helmet. Sweat-tangled hair clung to the back of his neck and behind his ears. 

Minutes passed by in a stifled blur. Hunk and Pidge, slumped in Blue’s lower carriage, where first helped into the medical bay. Shiro passed Keith to Allura, and came back for Lance when it became clear Lance was stuck to his seat. 

He was so exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to sink into unconsciousness, to have his mind turn off. Everything in him was running on autopilot.

Coran appeared by Lance’s side, and touched his arm. He yelped and jerked back when a spark of static zapped him. Lance mumbled something of an apology, but Coran was already reaching for him again, helping him to his feet. “Come on, young Paladin,” Coran said. He slung Lance’s arm over his shoulders, and braced the majority of Lance’s weight against his hip, taking him from Shiro. 

“Thanks,” Lance mumbled. He wasn’t sure what he was thankful for.

Somehow they made it to the medical bay. Lance was propped against one of the infirmary beds, and managed to get himself seated without assistance. He blinked several times, trying to clear his eyes, but everything was fuzzy. The castle’s lights seemed brighter than usual, and he couldn’t help but lift a hand to shield his eyes.

Allura appeared before him, gently guiding his hand away. “Where does it hurt?”

“Nowhere,” he murmured. It really didn’t. He was just tired. 

Allura frowned at him, and settled his hands in his lap. She reached for his wings and began to pull off the armoured plates still attached to the wing bones. Lance’s wings slumped in her grip, and he tried not to wince as she unwound his bandages. His feathers were in disarray, but he had no energy to deal with them. He let Allura smooth them down with careful fingers, and closed his eyes when pain twitched up his spine. She didn’t understand how to groom wings, but her attentions calmed him, and he really appreciated the effort.

Still, he was glad when Shiro appeared.

“Let me,” he said, voice quiet, as he urged Allura’s hands out of the way. “Help Coran get the others in the healing pods.”

“The others,” Lance repeated. He looked up at Shiro in alarm, and clutched a hand to Shiro’s shoulder.

“They’re okay,” Shiro said. He untangled Lance’s fingers from his shoulder and sat his arm straight, flexing Lance’s wing out. His voice was low and even; tense. “They’re okay,” he repeated. 

Lance started to protest, feeling his heart lurch, but Shiro wasn’t having it. He grimaced to himself, and heaved one of Lance’s arms around his shoulders, pulling him off the bed. Lance tried to look behind Shiro, eyes frantically looking for familiar black feathers, but he was being helped into a healing pod before he could make sense of anything.

This wasn’t the first time he’d had to use a healing pod, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. For a quick moment, everything became unbearably cold, and then nothing hurt anymore.

 

Lance woke up when the healing pod was opened. He was groggy and uncomfortable, and it took several moments for him to regain feeling in his feet. Coran helped him out so that he didn’t trip, and let him rest against one of the infirmary beds.

“How long was I out?” Lance croaked.

“Just under a day,” Coran said, as he passed Lance a water packet, the straw already inserted. “Drink up, and I’ll check you over.”

The healing pods had done a great job at patching him up. Now that he was fully conscious, he could tell that there was no more static skittering under his skin. While Coran gently pawed at his wings, Lance glanced over his feathers. They still looked horrible, but the wounded ones had healed, and several new feathers had emerged. There was still a bit of growing to be done, and a ridiculous amount of grooming, but it wasn’t… bad. Still bruised, but less broken.

A long sigh left him.

“Where are the others?” He asked, as he peered at the other healing pods. Two were still closed.

“Pidge is alright,” Coran started. He gestured for Lance to drink, so Lance did. “Their wings sustained minimal damage; a few broken feathers and some bruising, but the healing pod fixed it in a few vargas – hours, I mean. They’re resting now.”

“And the others?” Lance asked, shifting anxiously. He couldn’t see through the misty glass of the healing pods from this distance, couldn’t make out faces.

Coran hesitated. “One of Hunk’s wings was broken. Only a small fracture, nothing that can’t be fixed. It wasn’t the major bone that broke, but one of the smaller ones. He had some bruising, but was otherwise okay.”

Lance winced, his heart fluttering with unease. He’d fractured one of his smaller wing bones as a child, when he’d taken a tumble off the bed and landed bad. It wasn’t as painful as breaking, say, an arm – but it still hurt a lot. The bone had taken three months to fully heal, and although he’d been able to fly again after two weeks of wearing a wing splint, it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. He hoped the healing pod could do more for Hunk than human medicine had for him.

“And Keith?” Lance asked. He tried to school his voice, to make himself seem no more interested in Keith than he had in the others, but he didn’t know how successful he was. 

“Keith has a small fracture in one of his wings too, likely from being pulled from the sky.” Coran eased down Lance’s wings before letting them go, allowing Lance to tuck them up against his back. “Some of his feathers had been pulled free, and there was a bit of blood. The healing pod should fix him right up.”

Lance bit the inside of his cheek. The sudden, horrifying image of Keith’s beautiful feathers strewn across the ground or clutched in the hands of ruthless aliens made his stomach churn. He dug his fingernails into his palms where Coran couldn’t see. Something desperate and ugly crawled under his skin. He didn’t know what to feel at this news. Anger at the aliens, at himself for being so useless. Fear for his friends and their wellbeing. A desire to have Keith’s feathers between his fingers, to fix them, and to reassure himself. 

“Let’s go see the others alright? Then you can rest some more.”

Lance didn’t want to sleep anymore. “I just need a minute alone,” he pleaded. 

Coran understood. “I’ll wait outside.”

The moment the medical bay doors hissed shut, Lance scrambled up onto his feet. He went to Hunk’s healing pod first, trying to see if his friend was alright for himself. Hunk’s face looked peaceful, but the healing pods could be deceptive like that. Most of Hunk’s bruising had faded to a pale green, almost indistinguishable under his dark colouring. He couldn’t see much of Hunk’s wings thanks to the curve of the glass, but they didn’t look terribly injured. 

Lance spent as much time as he felt he could spare by Hunk’s healing pod. His unease had not left him, and he doubted it would until he saw Hunk up and moving again. He just wanted his friend to be okay. He’d known Hunk longer than anyone else on board the castle, and felt a deep ache at the thought of him being hurt.

Eventually he dragged himself over to Keith’s pod. He pressed his hands flat against the glass, and took a deep breath before peering inside.

Keith looked just as serene as Hunk did. His hair had been smoothed down, and he’d been stripped of his armour, leaving him in just the black under suit they all wore. Lance could see bruises peeking out from underneath the end of his sleeves, and there was a horrid purple blooming on his face, just under his left cheek. 

Lance shifted around the pod, trying to get a look at Keith’s wings. They were curled comfortably around his shoulders, the ends touching the ground. His feathers were all ruffled, and hardly any were sitting straight. It was like he’d been blow-dried from every angle, but Lance knew what had really happened. His eyes took in every inch of those feathers he could see, cataloguing Keith’s injuries before the healing pod erased them. He could only just see the section of feather-less skin where Keith’s feathers had been plucked. Pin feathers were starting to emerge, and soon the area would be mostly healed, but that did nothing to soothe Lance’s guilt.

What would have happened to his friends if they were any later in rescuing them? What would have happened if they’d been stuck in that underground jail for even an hour longer?

Lance didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t stop himself. His eyes went back to Keith’s face, tracing the shape of his jaw and the edge of the bruise, committing it to memory. Even Keith’s peaceful expression couldn’t mask what he’d been through. Lance pressed closer to the glass and forced back tears. 

His failures had cost his friends dearly.

“Wake up soon,” he whispered. He knew Keith couldn’t hear him, but he said the words anyway. He would have given anything just to see liveliness on Keith’s face again in that moment.

Not wanting to worry Coran, he reluctantly left the healing pods. His wings were trembling no matter how hard he tried to still them, but when Coran put a hand between his shoulder blades to steer him, he found the touch oddly comforting. Coran was the oldest person aboard the castle, and somewhere along the way Lance had really come to enjoy his company and his advice, even if it was sometimes a little crazy. 

“It’s my fault,” Lance whispered, before they made it to the common room. The words welled up in him before he could stop them from spilling out. “I should have tried harder.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Coran said, as he patted Lance’s back. “Especially not your own.”

Lance blinked several times, looking down at his bare feet. “I should have tried harder,” he said again, “to save them. To help them. They called out for me when they were being taken away and I couldn’t do anything.”

“You did save them,” Coran reminded him gently. “Lance, if it weren’t for your quick thinking, we wouldn’t have gotten them back. Nobody blames you, or each other for that matter. We’re Voltron. We’re a team.”

“But…” Lance sucked his lower lip into his mouth, hunching into his wings. They’d stopped walking. His voice was watery when he spoke. “The aliens- they only left me behind because my wings are _ugly.”_

Coran startled, like he’d been jabbed in the side. “Your wings are lovely!”

“They’re not!” Lance snapped, angry and ashamed. “They said so! They tore out my feathers and dumped them. They weren’t even pretty enough to take, not even the ones they’d ripped out.” The words were like poison in his mouth, making everything burn. The worst part of it all was that he knew the words he spoke were true, no matter how desperate he was for them to be wrong. “Coran, these wings are nothing but dirt. I just… I couldn’t help anyone, not with them.” 

Coran seemed troubled by Lance’s admission. He pulled Lance closer and got them walking again. “I would have hoped you’d value my opinion above a stranger’s,” he said, not unkindly. His eyes were unendingly gentle when Lance looked up at him. “But now isn’t the time to think about that, okay? Let’s get you to the others so you can rest. We’ll figure everything out later.”

Lance could only nod. Coran’s words would not leave his mind. He let himself be guided, and starting reconsidering his position on resting again.

Sleep suddenly sounded like the best thing in the universe.


	33. Thirty-Three

Lance couldn’t bring himself to move. The moment he’d sat on the couch in the common room, all his remaining energy had left him. He felt boneless, and couldn’t focus on the quiet murmurings around him. At some point Pidge had taken a seat beside him, shifting his wings so that they could curl up under one. Lance put an arm around their slim shoulders and left it at that, too exhausted to think of anything to say. He didn’t think Pidge was in the mood for words anyway.

He didn’t sleep, exactly, but he did drift. Coran brought everyone snacks and water and encouraged Lance to eat when he blinked owlishly at him. It would have only been forty minutes or so before Coran disappeared back towards the medical bay, returning with a groggy Hunk. He eased the paladin down beside Lance, so Lance shifted his wing back to let Hunk shelter in against his side.

“I hate the healing pods,” Hunk grumbled.

“Great for healing, though,” Lance said, though he didn’t disagree. Even if the healing pods worked wonders on their bodies, they did little to replenish their energy, and left anyone who fell out of one completely drained. Even more than they had been before they went in.

Across the room on the other couch, Shiro and Allura were talking, their voices too low for Lance to make out clearly. There was a small, white bandage pressed to Shiro’s forehead and a bruise creeping across his forearm, but other than that he didn’t seem injured. Lance stared at him for a moment, wondering what he’d seen down in that underground jail.

On second thought, he didn’t want to know.

Hunk lifted his head to glance at Shiro, catching his attention. “Did we at least get a treaty signed with the aliens? For their defensive technology?”

“We did,” Shiro said. There was a serious glint in his eyes, one that made a prickle go through Lance’s feathers. It took him a moment to place it as protectiveness. “It wasn’t like they could refuse us after the danger they put us in, unknowingly or otherwise.”

Lance hummed in agreement. That was true. If they’d gotten nothing out of that encounter he would have been really annoyed. 

“There is something more, though,” Allura said, her fingers pressed to her chin as thoughtful lines appeared between her brows. “Though the only reason I accepted their offer is because they phrased it from a political asylum standpoint.” 

“Political asylum?” Lance repeated, voice croaky. He coughed to clear his throat but it didn’t help much. He really needed rest.

“Or something close enough to it that I couldn’t refuse,” Allura sighed. She gestured a hand at Coran, who startled to attention and left. Lance watched him, feeling more and more puzzled as no answers to his question were forthcoming. “Regardless,” Allura continued, “we’re leaving this system immediately. I want to give us all some time to recuperate.”

While they waited for Coran to return, Pidge started to properly doze off. Lance felt them go heavy, head lolling back against the inner curve of Lance’s wing where his feathers were the softest. They probably would have fallen asleep if Coran hadn’t returned with a screeching bird. 

A _bird._

At least Lance thought it was a bird. It was like nothing he’d ever seen on Earth, or even on the planets they’d visited since forming Voltron. It was bird shaped, sort of, with a sleek, furred body and two pairs of wide, feathered wings. Its tail was long and silky, probably more than double the length of its body, and it looked more like hair than fur. 

It was the creature carved into the pendants the aliens wore.

And looking at it in person made Lance’s stomach do the same twisty thing it had before. The bird was a strange motley of colours – bright sunset oranges, the greens of lush rainforest leaves, a saturated red and the yellow of canaries. The more Lance stared, the more he couldn’t see where one colour ended and the next began. He blinked to clear his eyes, frowning, but the colours were moving, shimmery and iridescent, like they were alive and breathing. 

He’d never seen anything like it, and he doubted he ever would again.

“We’re keeping a bird?” Hunk asked, incredulous. Pidge was blinking at it, and lifted their glasses to rub a knuckle at their eyes before they resumed their staring. 

“It’s one of the last surviving birds they had.” Allura sounded resigned, and was giving the bird a blank look. “To protect the species, they asked if we could keep it on the castle.”

“Are we even equipped to handle a… bird?” Lance questioned, doubtful. The bird did not look happy to be sitting on Coran’s arm, so it flapped its wings and descended to the floor where it curiously hopped around, head bent low. Coran looked like he really wanted to chastise it for being a disturbance. 

“It eats common grains and vegetables, and doesn’t need a breeding partner to reproduce,” Allura said, her voice thick with a cautious edge. She clearly wasn’t sold on the idea of having a bird around the castle. “The aliens are hoping that without the threat of the rebels, it’ll produce offspring. Having a healthy specimen with us assures the continued survival of the species.” She pauses. “I couldn’t figure out a good enough excuse to say no.”

Lance made a noise that was in between resignation and amusement. The bird’s head whipped up at the sound of it, and it spread its wings at him, trilling. Amusing, Lance shuffled his wings free from his friends as much as he could, returning the gesture. If it were possible for a bird to be both confronted and satisfied, then that bird was definitely it. A laugh bubbled up in Lance’s throat. “It’s not used to being around other winged creatures,” he said.

The bird, having tired of exploring the common room, took off running for one of the adjoining corridors. It had this weird little hop in its step, just like Earth birds did, though far more pronounced. Pidge and Hunk both joined him in laughing as they watched Coran dart after the errant bird.

“It’s got quite the personality,” Lance said.

“Yes,” Allura agreed, slow and tired. “That it does. But it doesn’t have a name, apparently.”

Names would have to wait for later. Lance couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t obvious – Rainbow, Phoenix, Fluffy… that sort of thing – and all he wanted to do was sleep. Now that he’d eaten something and downed some water, all the restlessness in him was leaving. 

Shiro seemed to agree with his line of thinking. With Coran taking care of the bird, and both him and Allura awake to tend to Keith when he woke, the others were ordered to bed. Lance, more on autopilot than lucidly conscious, made sure his friends were properly tucked in before he headed off to his own room. Allura accompanied him, but she was more like a silent watcher, and she didn’t speak. Once she was sure he’d made it to the mattress and was going to stay put, she placed a fresh packet of water on his bedside table, dimmed his lights, and shut the door behind her. 

No one had figured out that Lance and Keith had been sharing a bed. If anyone saw the extra pillows and blanket on Lance’s bed, then they likely assumed it was because he wanted them, not because there was an extra body using the mattress. 

Lance was incredibly glad he hadn’t changed the sheets yet. He arranged his own pillows as comfortably as he could manage, but pulled Keith’s straight into his arms. When he pressed his nose against the fabric, he could smell very faint traces of Keith’s natural scent, something made up of shampoo and sweat and the scent of his clothes. 

It was a nice smell, even if it was a little old now, and very faded. A deep part of Lance’s stomach turned over itself as he closed his eyes and took slow, steady breathes. The pillow was no substitute for the real Keith, but if this was all he could get for now, then he’d take it.

For a fleeting moment, he thought about what would have happened if he hadn’t brought Blue in time. If Shiro hadn’t been able to get their friends out of the jail. If something- if anything had happened to Keith, anything worse that he had already suffered through. Lance’s throat tightened up. If his wings had just been prettier, then the aliens would have taken him too. They wouldn’t have had as much time to hurt Keith, or even Pidge and Hunk, if Lance had been there as well. 

He didn’t want to let himself think though thoughts. They weren’t… weren’t good, but he couldn’t help it. He hated how his resolve wavered, how one moment he was fine with his wings and the next he hated them more than anything. It was a vicious cycle with no way out.

This latest encounter with aliens had done nothing but make it worse.

 

It was sometime early the next morning that Keith emerged from the healing pod. Lance was roused by the sound of footsteps – Coran helping Keith to his room. He was pretty sure everyone else was asleep, and he was so tired that he almost drifted back off, but he made himself stay awake. It gave him a headache, but he persisted, and after some time had passed his insistence was rewarded.

Keith didn’t bother knocking. A wedge of light fell into the room as he slipped through the doors, momentarily blinding Lance. Keith looked exhausted and groggy, just like the rest of them had. He shuffled into bed without saying a word, crawling under Lance’s blankest to press against him. His big wings cocooned Lance, tucking him in closer. Even in the dark Lance could tell his feathers were disarrayed. 

“You’re okay,” Keith whispered, touching his palm to Lance’s cheek. His hands were bare, gloves left elsewhere, and the touch felt so intimate that Lance thought he might cry. He wasn’t sure if Keith’s words were a question or a whispered relief. 

“I should be the one saying that,” Lance whispered back. His throat was still hoarse and croaky, but more from sleep now. 

Keith mumbled something unintelligible and pressed their foreheads together. There was a pained furrow in his brow, one that twisted Lance up inside. He didn’t like seeing that look on Keith’s face. It was hurt and vulnerable, tinged with a frantic desperation that had Lance’s heart lurching. He could see his own fears when his friends had been taken reflected in that expression, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. He sometimes forgot how much they meant to Keith. He’d always been the lone wolf type, the person to hang back while the rest of them enjoyed themselves. 

But he cared for them just as much as they did for each other. In quieter, smaller ways, yes, but that didn’t lessen his feelings or his fears. 

“Everyone is okay,” Lance said, sneaking a hand up between them to touch Keith’s chin. It was all he could reach. “You should sleep.”

“Are you okay?” It was definitely a question this time, but it sounded weak, like Keith had folded his concern over and over until it was small enough to hide. 

Lance wasn’t okay, but he didn’t want to tell Keith that. Instead he just nodded, hoping that Keith believed him. Keith’s shaky exhale was impossible to read, but he didn’t ask again. Instead he slipped one arm around Lance’s waist, his bare fingers inching up the back of Lance’s shift, tracing the line of his spine and sinking into the feathers he could reach. His wing pulled Lance in closer, covering him like a blanket. Inky black feathers fluffed up against his cheek.

“Try and get some sleep,” Lance whispered.

Keith dipped his head, pressing a sleep-riddled kiss to the corner of Lance’s lips. Lance thought that maybe he hadn’t been aiming for there, and was too tired to notice, because Keith fell asleep a moment later. His mouth went all soft and slack against Lance’s, and his wing became heavy. Lance huffed, but he couldn’t begrudge Keith. It was a miracle he’d stayed awake long enough to sneak back into Lance’s bedroom.

After adjusting the covers over them, Lance closed his eyes, and was asleep in seconds.


	34. Thirty-Four

The bird was a handful. Lance delighted in the times when it ran amuck, leading Coran on a wild chase all around the castle. Considering the bird could fly and Coran could not, it was endlessly amusing. Coran had tried enlisting the help of the paladins, but Lance insisted _birds of a feather,_ and the irony of the saying – including the fact that the Alteans didn’t understand it – only sent him spiralling off into cackles and bouts of laughter.

It had been a while since he’d done that. Laugh.

The day after they left the planet, everyone slept. Lance didn’t really expect anything different. Coran and Allura took care of the castle while the paladins got anywhere between twelve and sixteen hours of solid sleep. Lance himself only woke up once – when Keith’s feathers tickled the sensitive skin of his neck enough to rouse him – but he fell asleep easily after some rearranging. 

Eventually his stomach had reminded him that sleeping for so long wasn’t a great idea. Keith was still asleep when he’d left the room, and had showed no signs of stirring. For the time being, Lance let him sleep. That left Lance himself where he was now, a few hours after waking with a full belly and quiet, albeit amused mind. 

Watching Coran chastise the bird like it was a child really cracked him up. Everyone else too, apparently, or at least those who were awake. Pidge and Shiro had already eaten by the time Lance shuffled into the kitchen. They and Allura were relaxing at the dining table, only perking up with energy when the bird darted in one door and out the other, Coran hot on its tail. 

Waiting for Keith and Hunk to wake up made Lance feel impatient, but he didn’t have the energy to do much about it. He ate when Shiro insisted, though he could tell the food hadn’t been cooked by Hunk. He was surprised by how much he missed it. Something lonely and small ached in him. He’d already become so used to their routine on the castle that any deviation made him feel like he wasn’t home.

He didn’t want to let that particular thought linger.

After some time, the paladins and Allura lounged around the common room instead of the kitchen. The couches were more comfortable, and it was closer to the bedrooms. Lance slumped down into the cushions as far as his wings would allow, one curled over his lap so he could smooth his feathers flat. It was absentminded work.

“What do we do next?” Shiro asked Allura. They were speaking in quiet voices, but the silent castle did nothing to muffle their words. “We can’t stay stationed here for much longer.”

“Just a few days at most,” Allura agreed. She was wearing casual clothes, and she hadn’t donned her tiara. Her face didn’t seem as drawn as it had the last time Lance had seen her. There was a well-rested look to her cheeks. “Thankfully no distress signals have reached our scanners, but as soon as we begin moving, they’ll undoubtedly start appearing once more.”

The thought of heading back into battle again made Lance feel heavy with exhaustion. Everything in him rejected the idea of fighting again, but realistically, he knew there was only one sure way out of war, and it wasn’t any good. 

“We passed on the defensive technology from our recent trip to our allies, so that should be in effect soon,” Allura continued. “Coran is working to upgrade our shields, and if all goes well, we can make improvements to the Lions, too.”

Lance leaned his head back, thinking to himself. He’d like to clean Blue when the chance arose, knowing she’d gotten a little scuffed up. He was still insecure about his bond with her, thinking it was weaker than what his fellow paladins had with their Lions. It was his hope that their bond would deepen if he spent more time with her. And besides, he liked bragging that his Lion was the cleanest. She seemed to hold her chin a little higher when she sparkled.

“We should probably stop by a trading station to restock as well.” Allura tilted her head. “We’ll need extra provisions to feed the bird, too.”

Speaking of which, the bird decided then would be the perfect moment for its next appearance. Upon finding the kitchen empty, it immediately swept into the lounge room, its wings spread wide. A pretty little trill left it’s beak as it circled above them.

Lance was momentarily surprised by just how beautiful the bird was. He could get a proper look at its wings when it was gliding like it was, and he looked his fill. Before, he hadn’t noticed that the bird’s second pair of wings were slightly smaller than the first, but it made sense. They seemed to be more for balance and direction than true power. Which, in hindsight, Lance thought made sense, mostly because the bird’s silky tail wasn’t made from feathers and seemed to be little more than a pretty decoration.

“That bird!” Coran groused, as he stumbled into the room, looking harried. He collapsed against the back of the couch and put one hand on his ribs. “I have been running after it all morning! How can it possibly have so much energy?”

Truth be told, Lance thought the bird was just having fun. It had likely been kept in a cage or a locked up area for the majority of its life, and now it had an entire castle to run around in. Even Lance defied the rules to fly around, and he was human.

“Have you tried tempting it with food?” Shiro questioned, sitting upright. His eyes followed the bird, alight with curiosity. 

“Tried and failed,” Coran huffed.

“Perhaps it’s just not tired,” Allura suggested. She looked incredibly amused by Coran’s hardships, and it reminded Lance of just how young she really was. All those centuries she spent asleep dropped away from her when she smiled like that.

The bird gave another cheeky trill before swooping out of the common room towards the bedrooms. Lance watched it go and couldn’t help but think the room was a little less colourful without the bird around. It just had the most stunning feathers.

A voice behind him made him jump. “What is that bird doing?”

Keith looked thoroughly exhausted, a grouchy frown stuck between his brows. He’d changed out of his sleepwear but wasn’t wearing his jacket or belt, and it made him seem more dishevelled. To someone like Lance, who perhaps looked a little harder than he should have, it made Keith seem more vulnerable, too. But it was impossible to ignore the tense line of Keith’s shoulders, and how his messy wings dragged behind him. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Lance jerked his eyes away. He made himself fiddle with his feathers even when he felt Keith’s stare on the back of his neck. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to stare. He’d wanted to check on Keith before he woke up when there were no prying eyes, but as per usual, Keith had a plan of his own. 

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asked, as Coran took off after the bird. 

Keith grunted, throwing himself down onto the couch beside Lance. He couldn’t have been comfortable with his wings crushed up against the back of the couch like they were, but he made no move to shift them around. His knee bumped Lance’s when he slumped down, and neither one of them moved away. It was a very deliberate touch, and it made Lance’s heart come down from his throat.

“Just hungry,” Keith eventually muttered, when it became clear Shiro wanted a proper answer.

“I’ll get you something.”

As Shiro disappeared into the kitchen, Allura lapsed into a quiet conversation with Pidge, so Lance turned to face Keith. A feeling of self-conscious worry made him hesitate. How did he act around Keith before they’d starting doing whatever they were doing? Dating? It was like he couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to keep up that same envious animosity with Keith anymore – the arguing, yes, the bickering, yes, the fire, yes. But the intention to hurt him, even if it was just with words? Definitely not.

It kind of looked like Keith was thinking the same thing. He wasn’t a talkative person under normal circumstances, but now his silence felt forced and awkward.

“Are you okay?” Lance couldn’t help but ask.

“Hungry,” Keith repeated. He nudged Lance’s knee with his own, subtle enough that no one else noticed. “You?”

Lance shrugged a shoulder. He still hadn’t decided how he felt, not when he felt like his mind was still reeling to catch up with the rest of him. What he did know, however, was that he definitely didn’t want to think about it. “Your wings are a mess.”

Keith scowled, his feathers fluffing up. “You can fix them later, then.”

Lance felt a grin tugging at his lips.

Shiro returned with a bowl of green food goo and sliced fruit for Keith, the same thing they’d all eaten. As they waited for Hunk to wake up, everyone was relatively quietly, drifting between conversation and comfortable quiet without much rhyme or reason. Lance joined in when he felt like it, but he was distracted by Keith, like he often was these days. He catalogued all the ruffled feathers he could see, and picked out the ones that needed to be pulled. He didn’t look incredibly worse for wear, but it was still enough to make Lance restless.

After another hour or so, Hunk appeared. He looked better rested than the rest of them, although he made a face at the food he was given. Lance was starting to feel restless, sitting and doing nothing, and by the time Hunk finished eating, the conversation finally turned to their next move.

It was an easy enough conversation to sit through. What Allura and Shiro had said before still stood: sitting stationary where they were was good to give everyone a chance to rest, but it put them far away from those who desperately needed their help. Getting back to being Voltron was their first priority, but rest and restocking had to come first.

Allura decided to give them one more day to restore their energy. Tomorrow they would set out for a trading planet where they could stock up on supplies, and then they would get back to it. Lance was still afflicted by that sense of exhausted dread at the idea of fighting again, but he shook it off. People needed him, they needed Voltron. He couldn’t falter.

After plans had been made, Allura moved onto debriefing them. Despite their injuries and their extra passenger, the mission had technically been a success. They’d needed the defensive technology and they’d gotten it. Not only that, but the aliens – at least, the friendly half of the planet – had pledged to join the coalition. They could be relied upon if the need arose. 

Lance wondered if they could have done anything different to prevent the team’s injuries, though. It was the alien’s deception that had led to the events that unfolded, and unfortunately that was something out of their control. Still, a little part of him nagged that he hadn’t done enough. If his wings had been prettier, he would have been taken too, and maybe the others wouldn’t have been so hurt. 

“Regardless of what happened,” Allura continued, “I’m very relieved that we made it out in one piece. I will take steps to ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

Her words were comforting. Lance let them sink into his worries, let them unravel the knot of tension growing in his stomach. “The Lions are vulnerable to electronic pulses,” he said, as he drummed his fingertips against his thighs. If he tried hard enough, he could bring himself to remember the feeling of being shocked whenever Blue had been hit. “I don’t know if they were expecting us, but their weapons worked. Blue’s power surged every time one of those nets struck her.”

Allura frowned, and cupped her elbows. “The shocks reached you, the paladin, as well,” she murmured. “I’m hoping something in the codes we were provided could help form a working defence against that, but it’s not my area of expertise.” 

Lance didn’t miss the startled look Keith shot him.

“I can look into it,” Pidge said. She glanced at Hunk, who nodded in agreement. “All the data from the battle should be recorded in Blue’s console, right?”

“Already downloaded,” Coran said.

“Good.” Allura stood and brushed her hair back over her shoulders. “Alright. I want everyone to check in with Coran at the infirmary at some point today, just to make sure there are no lasting injuries. You should take today to repair your wings and rest. Train lightly if you feel up to it. No late nights tonight.” That she directed at Pidge, who shrugged sheepishly. 

The paladins headed to the showers after Allura dismissed them. There were five pairs of wings in dire need of some intense grooming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm unsure what to name the bird hmm... suggestions are welcome!


	35. Thirty-Five

Lance picked a stall towards the end of the communal shower room. He stripped off within the privacy of its walls and turned the water on, just on the side of being too-hot. Steam almost instantly consumed him. He turned his back against the spray and let the water soak through his feathers. He could hear the other showers running, but paid no mind to them.

Sometimes he caught himself wishing the healing pod hadn’t fixed his wings. At least then he would’ve been able to come to terms with the damage and painstakingly fix it himself. As stupid as it sounded, he felt like he’d been denied his injury. His mind was convinced his wings were wounded, even though he rationally knew they weren’t. He supposed his fluctuating dislike for them didn’t help.

Showering eased his worries. He shampooed and conditioned every inch of his wings he could reach, working the product right to the base of his feathers. He plucked a feather that was growing in crooked but otherwise found no others worth removing. The water did a decent job at smoothing down the feathers he’d unintentionally ruffled, so he kept his back turned to the spray while he washed his hair and skin. 

“Lance?” Hunk called through the shower door. “Are you done yet?”

“Yeah, give me a second.” He washed the last traces of soap off his legs and turned off the water. The showers had a little section where he could leave his clothes and towel somewhere completely dry, so he stepped away from the drain to towel himself off and dress. Altean pyjamas were surprisingly comfortable, after they’d been adjusted to fit human wings. Lance loved his blue lion slippers too.

Hunk was sitting on the long bench in front of the mirror dressed in his pyjamas. He had a wing pulled into his lap, his fingers sunk into his dishevelled feathers. When he spotted Lance over his shoulder, he spread his wing in invitation, eyes hopeful. 

It was easy to fall into a routine with Hunk. comforting. Lance had groomed his wings dozens of times, sometimes even when the feathers didn’t need tending to just because Hunk would let him. Grooming was therapeutic. And Lance really liked Hunk’s wings, so that was a nice bonus. His wings were wide and all of his feathers were the colour of rich chocolate. When the light hit them just right, they would suddenly become much warmer in colour, much more saturated, and it was the prettiest thing. Plus his feathers were soft. So, so soft.

For the most part, the healing pod had realigned Hunk’s feathers perfectly. Coran had inspected the fracture site before Hunk had left the common room for the showers, and it was completely mended. A few test beats of his wings had produced no pain or twinges. Lance was still careful when he ran his hand over the injury site, but Hunk didn’t even notice.

“I feel so much better now that I’m clean,” Hunk sighed, sagging. He stretched out his wing when Lance smoothed out a particularly nice spot and sighed again, pleased this time. “Is it just me or do those healing pods leave you feeling all funny?”

Lance snorted. “Just you.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. 

Pidge game to join them a moment later, ruffling their towel through their hair. “Can you fix my wings, Lance?”

“After I’m finished with Hunk’s,” Lance said. A secret little thrill went through him whenever he was asked to do something so personal. It made him feel useful. Good. 

They lapsed into quiet conversation as Lance methodically worked his way through Hunk’s feathers. He was doing it more for the enjoyment than the need to fix his feathers, mostly because they’d been fine when Hunk had left the healing pod. All Lance had to do was rearrange the feathers so that they lay neatly, and so that they dried evenly. There was nothing worse than having wet inner feathers, not when they stuck to one’s back. 

“What do you think we should name the bird?” Hunk asked.

“Birdy McBird,” Lance said.

Pidge gave him an unimpressed look. “What about Fawkes? Or Pheonix?”

“Too boring.” Lance wrinkled his nose. “It’s too pretty for such a bland name.”

“The Alteans probably wouldn’t think it’s bad,” Hunk mused.

“That’s only because Coran would name it Wimbleton,” Lance protested. “Anything compared to that isn’t bad.”

Hunk laughed. “That’s probably true.”

“Something simple is best,” Pidge insisted, wings flicking back restlessly. “It’s just a bird.”

“A damn pretty bird.” Lance smoothed his hand down Hunk’s wing bone one last time before stepping back to survey his work. Hunk’s wings were truly gorgeous, and he felt better knowing he’d had a hand in making them that way. He gestured for Pidge and Hunk to change places.

“What about Rainbow?” Pidge suggested. “Since it has so many colours on it.”

“Boring,” Lance whined. He stretched one of Pidge’s smaller wings back and got straight into wrangling the tangles they’d gotten. Pidge’s feathers were short and wide, and downy along the wing bone and inner curve. Even though the soft feathers were more like fluff, they tangled worse than hair did. Especially considering Pidge never really groomed their wings on their own.

Hunk and Pidge continued to bicker over names as Lance worked through Pidge’s feathers. He took a moment to glance at Keith – he and Shiro were sitting by themselves on the other benches, talking quietly. Shiro was going through his feathers, but Keith wasn’t. That wasn’t very unusual, and Lance couldn’t help but think that maybe Keith was waiting for Lance to do it for him, instead. He certainly wouldn’t say no.

He turned away before Keith caught him staring. 

“What about Skittles? Everyone loves skittles,” Hunk said. “Or Cookie. Oreo. Sundae.”

“We can’t name it after food, that doesn’t feel right,” Pidge said. “Why don’t we ask Allura for Altean names?”

“It’s not really an Altean bird though… and the native people didn’t really give us their names, did they? Would it be bad if we gave it a name from another culture?”

“It’s just a bird. And considering we can’t exactly ask anyone for native names…”

“Yeah, I guess. I still think Cookie is a cute name. Though Rainbow was cute too.”

“Why not something in Spanish?” Keith suggested, as he suddenly appeared beside Lance. “You speak Spanish, right?”

“I forgot about that! What do you think, Lance?” Hunk asked.

Lance gaped for a moment, unsure. He had no idea Keith knew he spoke Spanish – his family was Cuban, and English was a second language for a lot of his extended family – but he felt oddly flattered that Keith knew. Maybe he’d heard Lance mumble something to himself, or maybe he remembered from their Garrison days (this was less likely, but Lance liked to believe it). It made him flush to think that Keith remembered little details like that. 

_“Arco iris_ means rainbow,” Lance said, before he thought better of it. _“Travieso_ is probably more fitting, though.”

“What does it mean?”

Lance grinned a little. “Trouble maker.”

Keith snorted, turning his face away. 

_“Esperanza_ means hope,” Lance offered. 

Hunk hummed, thoughtful. “Seems like a bit of a mouthful. Can you imagine Coran shouting that down the hallway?”

Lance laughed. “Probably not.”

For the time being, the bird remained unnamed. Maybe they needed to be looking at it to find something that suited it. Lance was starting to like the idea of giving it a name from his language. Made him feel a little more like he was at home. 

“I need to pluck this feather,” Lance said, tapping Pidge’s shoulder. 

“That’s fine.” Pidge tensed up a little, waiting for the small sting of the feather being removed. They hardly flinched, and when it was gone, their wings relaxed. “I conditioned them like you said but they’re still tangled.”

“It’s just the down,” Lance reassured. He ran his fingers through the fluffy feathers and smiled to himself when Pidge hummed. “Most of this will grow out in the next year or so, probably. Then they won’t tangle as much.”

“Still a pain,” Pidge muttered.

Lance couldn’t argue with that. 

Eventually everyone started to vacate the bathroom. It was clear that Hunk and Pidge intended to relax for the day – their clothing was evidence. Lance was thinking along the same lines, but he could tell Shiro was probably going to try and get some work done; he’d dressed in his normal clothes. Keith had too, but Lance wasn’t sure what Keith was going to. When he snuck another glance at him, and Keith met his eyes with a rather meaningful stare, he couldn’t help but glance away again.

Keith had no right to look at him that way. He was too handsome, and it was doing stupid things to Lance’s heart.

“I’m going to train,” Keith said, as the group started to split off. Hunk was already heading down to the labs with Pidge, but they waited to see what the others were up to first.

“I think my face masks are calling,” Lance declared. It wasn’t a lie.

“Make sure to take it easy today,” Shiro warned them all, though it was directed more at Keith than anyone else. With one last meaningful look at Keith, Shiro left, no doubt to go find Allura. Lance still suspected something was going on there, but he didn’t want to ask. 

After a moment, and by what felt like completely coincidence, Keith and Lance were the only two left in the bathroom. Lance bent to gather Pidge’s plucked feather and the down they had shed, ready to throw away. “Are you really going to train–?”

Keith cut him off by grabbing him by the wrist. In one unfairly smooth motion, he twisted Lance around and pushed him back against the bench. Any words Lance might have said were instantly muffled by Keith’s lips.

It wasn’t a clean kiss. It was quite messy, actually, and Lance liked it. He felt his bones melt, wings drooping, as Keith pressed their mouths together. Chaste, but forceful. Like he wanted to take something. From this close, Keith smelt like shampoo and water.

“What was that for?” Lance asked, when Keith released him. His legs were sort of sore from where they’d hit the bench, and he was amazed he hadn’t fallen on his ass. The tingling in his lips was a good distraction from the ache.

Keith shrugged a shoulder. His feathers were all puffed up, sticking up in every direction. “Just wanted to,” he said. And then he ducked away, light on his feet, and said, “Race you back to yours.”

Lance could never let a challenge go unanswered. Keith skidded out of the bathroom with ease, and Lance regretted his choice of shoes as his slippers stuck to the wet floor. With a burst of giddy energy, he unfurled his wings and laughed himself into the air. The corridor outside of the bathroom was wide and spacious, enough for him to gain some momentum. He wove around Keith and laughed when Keith made an affronted noise.

The race to his room was short, and although he was pretty sure he won, they called it a tie. It was a miracle neither one of them had smacked into the walls. Lance’s wings could fit into the corridor, yes, but both of theirs? That was a bit more of a challenge.

He was glad no one had seen them.

They sat on Lance’s bed, slippers and shoes kicked off. Lance urged one of Keith’s fluffy wings into his lap, ducking his head to hide a smile when he threaded his fingers through those onyx feathers. He had a lot of grooming to do, but he could tell Keith had shampooed his wings, something he didn’t normally do. “Seen the way of conditioning, huh?”

In the privacy of the room, Keith let himself flush, and turned his head away. Lance was learning that he did that to give himself some time to gather his thoughts, and it made his stomach twist – in a good way. A very good way.

Later they’d probably have to have a meeting to talk about their upcoming mission to a trading planet, but Lance put it out of his mind. Soaking up Keith’s attention felt like putting a bandage on all his problems. If he focused on Keith’s gorgeous wings, then he wasn’t thinking about his own. He knew they couldn’t hide this forever, but for now he wanted it to be their secret. He really, selfishly wanted that.

“What are you thinking about?” Keith asked, looking at him intently. He was worried. 

Lance forced himself to smile. After a moment, the smile felt less forced. Even if it was selfish, he wanted to let himself be comforted by Keith. “Nothing important, really.”

Keith huffed, disbelieving, and leaned forwards. He crowded Lance against the wall, his wings flared. “What I’d give to know what goes on in your head,” he murmured, his breath touching Lance’s lips. 

“I just want to groom your wings,” Lance admitted. He reached forwards, burying his fingers in the soft feathers of Keith’s inner wing, careful not to mess them up. “They’re so pretty…” _Unlike mine._ He wanted to say it. The urge to spill his thoughts rose up in him sudden and sharp, but he swallowed it. “Won’t you let me?”

Keith clearly knew Lance was asking for a distraction. He frowned, but placed the softest kiss imaginable against Lance’s lips, so light he hardly felt it. Lance almost felt like he didn’t deserve such tenderness. 

“I want to groom yours, too,” Keith murmured.

It brought a surprised smile to Lance’s face. “You don’t have to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the name suggestions! I haven't quite decided yet, but I think that adds to the bird's appeal haha. I like the idea of giving it a Spanish name so Lance has a strong connection to it. Hopefully the action will pick up a bit soon, but I wanted to give Lance and Keith (and, to some extent, the others too) a bit of time to be playful and indulgent!


	36. Thirty-Six

The trading station was a short jump away from their location. Allura assured the team that the station was small and sparsely populated, and remote enough that they likely wouldn’t be recognised if they took the appropriate measures to disguise themselves. That meant wing-jackets and cloaks.

“We’re looking for the usual supplies,” Allura said, as she distributed tablets amongst the paladins. “I’ve already sent you each a list. It’s mostly food provisions and medicine, but we should take this chance to restock as much as possible.”

Lance took the tablet when it was handed to him. He scrolled to find the relevant information, and was glad to see items he recognised on the short list. There were a few common fruits and vegetables, and some sort of strange grain likely for the bird. From what he’d seen, most trading stations generally had these products well stocked. It was like going to a supermarket and finding apples. 

“You’ll be going down in Green,” Allura continued. “Pidge, Hunk, Keith and Shiro, I want you to use Green’s cloaking device to get there and back. There’s a cluster of abandoned buildings towards the south of the station where you can safely land. Coran, Lance and I will take one of the transportation pods.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little dismayed to be separated from Keith, but Allura was giving him a _look,_ and it kept him from complaining. He wasn’t quite sure what that look was for, though… it made him nervous. Allura had this way of knowing what he was thinking before he’d thought it, and there were some things he didn’t really want to share. Mostly Keith.

While they prepared for the trip, Lance tried to think of any time he might have slipped up. Had he stared too long? He wasn’t sure anything he’d done around Allura was too obvious. Had she checked on Keith when they were all out cold, only to find him in Lance’s room? A sinking feeling in his stomach told him it might have been that. Did she know?

As they boarded the pods, he had no choice but to put it out of his mind. Coran piloted, leaving Lance and Allura seated on the passenger seats behind him. Lance fiddled with his wing-jacket, pushing the coat out of the way to smooth the fabric over his feathers. Without anything interesting to say, he defaulted to a safe topic. “Thought of any names for the bird?”

Allura let out a quiet sigh. “No, I think I’ll leave that up to you paladins. It’s not really in my skill set, I’m afraid.”

“It feels weird to give the bird an Earth name,” Lance said. “Are there any Altean ones?”

She paused for a moment. “None that come to mind. What’s wrong with an Earthen name? Are there none that suit it?”

“It’s more like they don’t feel grand enough,” Lance said. “We’re used to those names, you know? They’re not new.”

“Perhaps we don’t need something new,” Allura said. When he glanced at her, she caught his eyes. She leaned across the console between their chairs to put a hand over his. “Well, at least not new to me. Perhaps something familiar to you paladins will bring you comfort, something familiar.”

He frowned at her, feeling like she’d caught him doing something bad. “I’m not–”

Allura shook her head, silencing him. “Is there no name that would bring you comfort?” She wasn’t asking about the team then, just him. Her eyes made him vulnerable. “None at all?”

Lance’s mind whirled. Names in English and Spanish tumbled over one another, trying to find meaning from him. Something pretty enough to give a bird that carried the burden not only of its dwindling species, but all the people who worshipped it, too. 

_“Mirana,”_ he said. 

Allura gave him a surprised look, like she hadn’t expected him to offer something. Her surprise embarrassed him, and he turned his face away, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. 

“Mirana,” Allura repeated. Her pronunciation was stilted, her mouth unable to twist and caress the _r_ in the same way a native Spanish speaker could. But the word still sounded pretty on her lips. It made something lonely and homesick in Lance fidget, though not in an entirely bad way. Just in a way he couldn’t quite understand yet. “I’ve never heard a name like that before.”

“It’s popular where my family comes from,” Lance said. The conversation paused as Coran directed the pod out of the castle. It wasn’t often that the castle was left completely unattended, but they wouldn’t be gone for long. “My mother’s name is Mirana.”

“It’s beautiful,” Allura told him. There was a small smile playing in the corners of her lips. “What does it mean?”

Lance wracked his brain, trying to remember. He’d never really been interested in the meaning of names, not when he’d grown up with two languages competing for space in his brain. But he supposed there was a reason his Ma’s name came up over everything other name he knew. “My dad always says it means wonderful. He always calls her his wonder when he thinks no one else can hear.”

Thinking of his family was painful. He missed them fiercely, and hoped that they still believed he was alive, and that he was okay. When he thought of the things he was missing – birthdays, weddings, and god, his aunt would have had her baby by now – his throat got all tight and his eyes began to burn. Homesickness struck him worse than any blade or bullet could.

“I hope to meet your family one day,” Allura admitted. “Yours, Pidge’s, Hunk’s… everyone’s. Earth seems so diverse.”

“Oh, it is,” Lance agreed. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how many languages were spoken all over the globe, let alone how many different cultures and traditions there were. Thousands. He understood Allura’s curiosity. If given the chance, he’d definitely want to see what Altea was like. The people, the culture, the architecture… everything. 

“Can we call the bird Mirana, then?”

Lance was starting to like the idea now that he was thinking about it. Was it selfish of him to want to give the bird a name so personal to him? It wasn’t like the others had any connection to the name. Well, except maybe Hunk, who had met Lance’s family. “If everyone else likes it…”

Conversation was kept relatively light at they approached the plant. Lance spoke a little of his Cuban heritage, and Allura spoke similarly of Altea. Coran chimed in when he could, but the trip down to the trading station wasn’t very long. It definitely would have been quicker for the others in Green, though it only took a few minutes, so Lance wasn’t complaining. 

The station was small. The entire planet was, actually. As they neared the surface, Lance could spot the abandoned buildings where Pidge could land Green. They were located away from the rest of the infrastructure, and had partially been reclaimed by the land, with vines and rocks regrowing through the hollowed out buildings. The planet wasn’t particularly grassy, and didn’t seem to have much more than sparse bushland for vegetation, but it wasn’t entirely stone or rock, either. Somewhere in between.

The actual trading stalls were a little more colourful. Coran landed the transportation pod in what looked almost like a parking lot, though he chose a more secluded spot half hidden between an outcropping of jagged rocks. It looked like the market was little more than a sprawling maze of stalls – there were no set roads or paths, and the stalls reached out in every direction like cracks in a glass screen. From the air, Lance hadn’t been able to see what each stall offered, but when they set out on foot it was easier to discern the market sections.

“We’ll go this way, towards the produce,” Allura said, as she scrolled through the list of supplies on her tablet. “I trust you’ll be alright, Coran?”

“Of course Princess.” Coran put a hand on each of their shoulders and gave them a cheery, over-confident smile. “Don’t you worry. I’ll be in an out in a few ticks, so fast you won’t have time to miss me.”

Lance snorted, amused, but didn’t comment. Coran’s eccentricities would never completely wear off, but he was getting used to them now. He liked the energy Coran always seemed to have. It wasn’t like Coran got to leave the castle often, so this was his chance to stretch his legs. As long as he didn’t get them into any trouble it wasn’t like he needed to be babysat.

“Alright, off we go then.” Allura clicked off her tablet and tucked it away under her cloak. She was wearing her bodysuit and tiara, but had a cloak and a pair of gloves on to help disguise her. The cloak had a hood, and she kept it up, her hair tucked underneath, to help hide the Altean marks on her cheeks. She led the way as they approached the trading stalls. 

It wasn’t as crowded as Lance expected. He kept his wings tucked in tightly against his back, almost to the point of discomfort, but even if he relaxed them a little he doubted anyone would jostle him. Even if the stalls were crammed in wherever they could fit amongst one another, the people drifting between them never really crossed paths. It was a relief, if he was being honest. He didn’t want anyone bumping against his wings and realising he was a paladin.

Allura was better at spotting what they needed. She bought the supplies and Lance carried them – within a few minutes of walking he had a wooden crate of sweet-smelling fruits and root vegetables in his arms, and a bag of some sort of powder stacked on top. 

After some time, Allura spoke. “As much as I enjoy spending time with you,” she started, as they squeezed in between two stalls to get around the other side, “I do have something I want to discuss without other ears listening in.”

Lance prickled, but he forced a smile to his face and made his shoulders stay relaxed. “Oh, alone time? Could have just asked, Princess.”

She smiled at him, that smile of hers that was closer to an eye-roll but still fond. “Funny. Actually, I wanted to ask you about Keith.”

He swallowed. _Be cool, Lance._ “Him? What about him?”

“Well… I’m not sure how to put this, so I’ll just come out and ask it.” She cleared her throat. “You two aren’t fighting, are you?”

Lance was so surprised by the question that for a moment, he forgot to answer it. An awkward laugh built up in his throat, but he cut it off. “What? No. No, we’re not fighting.”

Allura gave him a suspicious look. There was a furrow in her brow, and her expression was almost entirely unreadable. Lance could tell she didn’t believe him, but was that because she thought he was lying about fighting, or because she thought there was something more going on? Something a little closer to the truth?

For a moment, he entertained the thought of just telling her. They’d become much closer in the last few months – they all had. He didn’t think the Alteans had any problems with same-sex couples, or anything like that. And it wasn’t like she’d disapprove because he and Keith were different ethnicities. All of the things he’d have to worry about on Earth didn’t apply in space.

But space came with its own set of problems. Would Allura think a relationship between him and Keith endangered Voltron? From her point of view, he could see why she would think that. Romantic notions could make a person reckless, and more willing to sacrifice things they normally wouldn’t. A relationship might distract them on their missions, and from their duty as paladins. Was it really worth all the trouble it could cause?

Lance pictured Keith’s face and knew that it was.

That didn’t mean others would have the same opinion, though.

As much as he was ashamed to be keeping a secret from Allura, he didn’t tell her. It left him feeling a weird mix of emotions – guilt at keeping a secret, and relief that he still had Keith all to himself. He wasn’t sure what was making him so possessive over Keith’s attention, what made him feel like he had to keep it to himself. All his past relationships, if they could even be called that, had had him boasting left, right and centre. This was different. Keith was different. 

“You two hardly even look at each other,” Allura said. “I’m worried that perhaps you’ve had a falling out.”

It was more like a falling in, actually. He didn’t say that though. “Honestly, we’re not fighting,” he insisted. “For once that’s actually true. I’ve just been tired. He’s been tired. Everyone’s been tired, you know? With the fighting and all that. We needed the break.”

She hummed. A product caught her eye, and while she tended to it, Lance took a moment to catch his breath. He felt like he’d run a mile. Why was he so worried about someone finding out?

“If you ever do have a problem, I want you to know you can talk to me,” Allura told him, as she put a little box in the crate with the fruit. She was speaking so sincerely that Lance felt all the worse for lying to her. “I’ll try my best to understand, Lance. I know I don’t always comprehend everything that goes on between you and the others, but I’m trying. You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” he said, and he did. He knew that if he wanted to tell Allura about his problems, or about Keith, then he could. Sure, he didn’t know how she’d react, but he knew he could tell her, and she’d listen. He just didn’t want to tell her.

Or anyone, for that matter.

Regardless, Allura seemed comforted by his words. She gave him another smile and they carried on. The air between them became more and more relaxed as they turned their attention to the mission. It was strange how Lance felt so comfortable around her, in a way he’d never been around girls on Earth. He supposed their situation made their relationship a little different, with Voltron and the war. 

He snuck a glance at her as they walked. He still liked her, but not in the same way he had before. It was and would probably always be easy to admit Allura was pretty.

But he was starting to believe Keith was prettier, in his own way. It was a very honest, raw thought, and it made him duck his head. He’d always believed that getting to know a person made them more beautiful. He wondered what Keith found appealing about him.

It was easy to distract himself with other things. He hid his thoughts about Keith behind the first thing that came to mind – the bird. Mirana. A part of him wanted the others to like the name. They could always call the bird Rana for short. 

“Mirana,” he murmured to himself.

“Mirana,” Allura said, too, startling him. Her pronunciation was better this time.

“Mirana,” he agreed, heart fluttering. His mother’s name. He didn’t feel heavy when he thought about her or her name this time. 

No. It left him feeling lighter than he had in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a rough day, so I'll have to go through this chapter for mistakes tomorrow. I lost my beloved pet today, who I've had for more than half of my life, from the moment she took her first breath to her last. I knew it was going to happen, but it still hurts. I'm really glad she can be at peace now.
> 
> On a happier note, season five also came out, which I promptly binge-watched. I'm really happy that Lance got more screen time! It's weird how attached to him I've become, so seeing him flourish and receive attention as a character really inspires me. Plus Lance is super cute, so that helps.


	37. Thirty-Seven

The mission down to the trading station was going relatively well. Both Lance’s and Allura’s lists were almost complete, and both were weighed down by products now. Lance was starting to grow weary, but Allura was determined to finish the lists, so on they trudged. 

“Human infants are born with their wings, right?” Allura questioned, as they continued their search for some sort of powdered, metal alloy. 

“We are,” Lance said. “But our wings are much smaller when we’re born, probably only half the size of our spines.”

“I must admit I don’t know much about human anatomy, but I assume it’s something somewhat similar to Altean anatomy, considering how alike we are physically. But is it not… strenuous, to give both to a child with wings?”

Lance snorted, but nodded in agreement. “Not that I have any personal experience, but I think all childbirth is painful. When we’re born though, our wing bones are soft and malleable. It’s only after a few months of growing that they become solid.”

“Oh, I see. That’s rather genius. So the baby can pass through the passage–”

“I’d really rather not talk about any woman’s passage, Allura.”

She raised a brow at him, forcing down an amused smile. “I was under the impression that you were quite interested in them, Lance.”

It took him a moment to get what she was implying. His ears went read. “Allura, no. We are not having this conversation. Nope. No thank you.”

And okay, he was interested in women. Girls were pretty and soft and a lot of the time they were tougher and cooler than him and really, what wasn’t to like? But he liked guys too, always had. It had never even occurred to him that liking both was something unusual. He’d always thought guys were just as attractive. And since he was (secretly) dating a guy, he didn’t want to be talking about women. It didn’t feel right.

Not that Allura would know that, though.

She laughed at his embarrassment. “Alright, alright. But I’m curious about your people. I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface, even after all this time.”

“Why don’t you ask Shiro?” Lance countered, grinning when Allura suddenly turned her face away. “I’m sure he’d be more than willing to tell you anything you wanted to know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lance’s grin stretched wider. “Mhmm.”

“Enough of that! Just tell me more about human children,” Allura huffed. 

So Lance did. It was an easy way to fill the time, and not only did it keep him distracted, but it seemed to satiate Allura’s curiosity. She was very interested in how children learned to fly, though Lance could only explain it as a similar way to learning how to walk. Human children generally learned to walk before they could fly, mostly because their wings wouldn’t be big or strong enough to carry their weight until they were older and taller. 

Eventually, they found a stall with the metal alloy and could finally make their way back to the transport pod. They were the first ones back, so they dawdled with securing the supplies on board. Allura fired off messages to the others while Lance secured the last few boxes in the sizeable storage spaces behind the passenger chairs, making sure nothing would topple over or spill when the transport pod moved. 

“Coran should be here, soon,” Allura said, her eyes focused on her tablet. “Looks like everyone found everything we needed.”

Lance wiped sweat off of his forehead and nodded. He couldn’t wait to get his wing-jackets and cloak off. 

 

The following afternoon saw the paladins undergoing a training session. Lance felt like it had been ages since he’d last used his wings extensively, and he was a little apprehensive. 

Like usual, Shiro directed the training session. They each wore their armour but had left their bayards aside for the time being. From the control room, Coran and Allura watched, and organized the release of training droids. Every round saw them appearing faster and in more numbers, their aggression levels dialled up. Each paladin took a turn flying individually, and once each had gone through a round, they’d move onto group simulations. 

Lance stretched his arms over his head, waiting for his turn. Hunk and Shiro had already completed their simulations, and Pidge was on the verge of finishing, by the looks of it. Lance watched them spread their wings, banking low to the floor. Each paladin was timed, and if they could avoid the stinging shots from the training bots, then they passed the simulation. It was really just a means of exercise to maintain their wing dexterity, but it was necessary. 

“You’re up, Lance,” Shiro said, when the training simulation wound down.

Lance flexed his wings and took off into the air. He knew from experience that Allura and Coran wouldn’t wait for him to be ready before deploying the next round of training bots – it wasn’t like an enemy would wait for him to get his bearings. 

The training bots were small; an improved design. They moved with an impressive amount of speed, and the shots they fired really left a sting. Over the rush of his feathers beating, Lance could hear the timer begin. 

Lance dove out of the way as the bots swarmed. He let the weight of his body carry him towards the floor and then snapped his wings open, swiftly rising. The bots swung around, a pair clattering into one another before they were after him again. Lance swerved towards the other end of the training hall, beating his wings to pick up speed. He didn’t have the strength or wingspan of Shiro or Hunk, but he was fast and flexible, and he could use that to his advantage. 

A shot whizzed past his head. He tucked his left wing in to roll to the side, backing up several paces when the bots zipped past him. Lance muffled a yelp as one of the bots careened past his shoulder, spinning on its axis to aim a shot at him. He twisted out of the way of the flurry of shots heading his way and travelled across the room again. 

As long as he kept moving he would be harder to hit. He dove out of the way of shots, letting his mind unravel. The training bots weren’t predictable and didn’t follow any sort of discernible pattern, but they needed a moment to recharge. Lance could sense their bolts buzzing through the air through his feathers before they hit him and it gave him a second to react. 

It was mostly instinct work. Lance knew that Shiro wanted them to keep up their flying skills, and to make sure that they didn’t rely on either their Lions or any Altean technology when it came to battle. In a sense it was just like hand-to-hand combat training. If the need arose that they had to use their wings in battle, then they needed to be able to keep up with their body’s demands. 

But the training exercise was exhausting, and this was only the individual round.

Lance wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He’d avoided the training bot’s bolts, though the heat from one had sent a tingle down his spine when it had come too close to him. He tucked his wings in tight against his back and plummeted back towards the ground, landing in a crouch to stop his knees from aching. 

The training bots descended down after him, showering the floor in blue bolts that left a sizzling, singed smell to the air. Lance skipped back a few steps, uneasy on his feet after so much rigorous flying. His wings pedalled, flaring out to keep him balanced. He bent over backwards as a shot suddenly flew towards his face, his spine arching. He braced himself on his hands and flipped over, using his wings to carry his weight and level him back upright. 

With one powerful downbeat, he propelled himself into the air and delighted in the way all the shots whizzed by under his feet – he was completely out of reach. 

A moment later and an alarm rang, signalling the end of the simulation. Lance dropped back to the ground and let his wings droop, sighing. He fluttered his wings, airing out his feathers before he settled them against his back again. 

“Well done, Lance,” Shiro praised, clapping a hand to Lance’s shoulder as Lance approached him. “You did really well.”

Lance beamed. 

As Shiro directed Keith to start his simulation, Lance took a seat against the wall where he’d left a water packet for himself. He drained it, and turned his eyes to watch Keith train. Considering Hunk and Pidge were doing the same thing, still recovering from their own simulation session, Lance felt safe enough to stare at Keith all he wanted.

Like usual, Keith was beautiful to watch. His wings had such an impressive wingspan that for a moment, Lance’s breath was stolen. It had been a while since he’d seen Keith fly uninhibited, even if he did have the training bots to watch out for. 

There was something undeniably attractive about Keith, about the way he moved when he was in battle, even if it was just a training simulation. His wings weren’t as flexible as Lance’s and they didn’t have downbeats as powerful as Shiro’s or Hunk’s, but he was faster, and he had more strength in every movement than the rest of them. 

His back muscles were particularly attractive.

Lance was starting to feel a little flushed.

But he didn’t turn his eyes away. Keith dove out of the way of a blast and spread his wings wide to steady himself, casting a shadow across the floor. He beat them several times, rising fast, his face concentrated. Lance doubted that anything could distract him in that moment. 

Keith finished his training simulation with flying colours. He settled back on the ground like he hadn’t even broken a sweat and stalked towards where Lance was sitting, keen on getting a drink. He drained a water packet of his own before he finally let out an exhausted exhale, one hand propped on his hip.

“You are unfairly flexible,” he muttered, staring down at Lance with intense, hooded eyes.

Lance spluttered, face going red. He hadn’t even considered the fact that Keith might have been watching him as keenly as Lance had watched Keith. Knowing that only made him feel more embarrassed. 

And also really, really flattered.

“Alright, we’re going to have a quick break before moving on,” Shiro said, gathering everyone’s attention. His wings shuffled against his back as he thought something over, likely without even realising it. “The training simulations might have to be upped next time we run through this exercise. Do you think you can manage?”

“Wait, the training bots are going to get more viscous?” Hunk fretted. 

“You can get through this level without taking a hit, so it’s time to change the simulation,” Shiro answered. “We’re all making good progress.”

Lance agreed. Training was going well for him lately. Or maybe being with Keith had put him in a better mood. 

“In either case,” Shiro continued, “we’re going to take a quick break, and then Allura will run us through the next simulation. Make sure to stay hydrated.”

Lance held up his empty water packet in acknowledgement. Hunk tossed him a new one which he began to drink, too. Keith took a seat beside him, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. No one seemed to notice how close they sat by one another. No one seemed to notice the way Keith pressed his wing against Lance’s, either. 

But Lance noticed. And he really liked it.

“Where do you think we’ll be going next?” He asked, voice quiet. 

“Hopefully nowhere obsessed with birds,” Keith muttered, frowning to himself in that way that meant he was thinking of something frustrating. 

Lance snorted. “Yeah, hopefully not. I’d rather not have my feathers ripped out again.”

Keith’s eyes jerked over to him, wild with confusion. “What?”

Had Lance not mentioned that before? He winced and shrunk away, turning his face to the side. “It’s nothing,” he said. 

Keith clearly didn’t believe him. His feathers puffed up as his frown grew deeper. “You’re not telling me something.”

Lance pursed his lips, reluctant to say anything. He didn’t even want to remember what had happened on that planet, let alone talk about it. There was probably a reason why he hadn’t thought to say anything to Keith about what had happened, and he didn’t want to think about what that reason was, either.

Before Keith could press the issue anymore, Shiro rounded them up for more training. Break time was over.

Keith caught Lance by the arm before they separated. “I want to know more,” he said. His eyes softened. “But later.”

Lance didn’t answer. He knew Keith wasn’t going to let this go. But maybe it would be okay to tell him… Keith wouldn’t think any less of him, right? He wouldn’t suddenly see the plain dullness of Lance’s wings, would he?


	38. Thirty-Eight

Training continued. Their few days of quiet on the castle continued. Lance managed to avoid Keith’s confused frowns for another full cycle – training left the entire team exhausted, and it was easy to escape him in the showers or the kitchen. It wasn’t like Lance was running away from him. He just didn’t want to talk about it.

For the most part, their next mission served as a decent distraction. A distress signal arrived during the afternoon the day after their wing training session. Allura tended to it, and relayed everything they needed to know: a series of three small planets each with two inhabited moons was in need of their help. Their moons were full of some sort of ore, one that replenished over time, giving them an almost endless supply. Apparently it grew as fast as plants on Earth, which was quite speedy for something like mineral ore. It was highly sought after by the Galra, likely to fuel some sort of weapon, or a new type of ship – the specifics were a little unclear.

If the moons were over mined, then they would inevitably hollow out. Without their weight to stabilise the gravitational force of the planets, they’d spin off their axis and collide, crashing into millions of pieces. No one could survive that.

“We should arrive in their orbit, or a close distance to it within a day or so,” Allura said at their team meeting, her tablet in hand. “They’ve reported intensifying Galra activity within their quadrant, and it’s our job to drive them out. In return, they’ve pledged to join the coalition,” Allura continued. “Though we would have helped them anyway.”

It didn’t sound simple, but Lance wouldn’t let himself dwell on the details. He’d just psyche himself out if he did that.

While the paladins slept, the castle jumped through space to get them as close to the planet’s system as it could. That still left them a day of travel time, but it was a day to prepare, so it wasn’t wasted. They didn’t know what they’d find when they arrived. 

In the morning, Lance was tasked with feeding Mirana. Hunk and Coran had worked hard to find something that the bird would eat, but it would stubbornly to take anything from them. By chance, Lance had wandered into the kitchen when they were arguing with it, and it turns out Mirana would eat literally anything – as long as Lance was the one doing the feeding. 

He was oddly thrilled about it. The bird liked _him_ the best.

Still, Mirana was quite the handful. They liked to fly around the castle trilling and chiming, and it wasn’t uncommon for it to wind its tail around someone’s head by flying around them several times. Playfully, of course, but it’s cheekiness wasn’t always appreciated. Especially not by Coran. Lance had a feeling the bird knew that Coran wasn’t fond of it, so it made an effort to bother Coran as much as it could.

After some time with the bird, it became clear that it wasn’t like wildlife on Earth. Since Lance was the one primarily taking care of it (even if this was a task only assigned to him the previous night, after the others had tried to feed it with produce from their recent mission to the trading station) he felt it was his job to make sure the bird was at least in optimal health. He spent the evening observing the bird – not avoiding Keith – so he could figure out its habits.

Mirana was an expert at getting out of their room. They had the cage they’d come with, but it seemed cruel to lock them away when there was so much unused space on the castle. The Alteans had a place for animals, so it had been converted into an aviary. Nothing like the aviaries on Earth, since it was built with Altean technology and looked painfully futuristic, but the bird seemed to like it nevertheless. 

Lance was sure Mirana was incredibly intelligent. Looking into their bright orange eyes would tell anyone that, if their overtly cheeky nature and quick thinking didn’t. It only took an hour for Lance to teach the bird its name, and to teach it where to do its business (bless Altean sanitary systems). Mirana had no preference about where they ate or what they ate out of, so bowls of diced fruit and grain were left in their aviary, along with a bowl of water. They were more than capable of caring for themselves, but Mirana seemed much more interested in bothering other people for attention.

Dinner time proved to be one such occasion.

“Can’t you ask it to sit still?” Hunk complained, as he held the tray of dinner bowls out of the way of Mirana’s curious pecking. “This isn’t for you, Mirana.”

Lance snickered. He called Mirana over, and was delighted when they immediately hopped across the table to flash their wings at him. “Oh, you’re such a show off,” Lance snorted, amused. Mirana let out a prideful trill, feathers rippling as they thrashed their long tail back and forth, almost knocking off all the cutlery on the table.

“No birds at the dining table,” Allura scolded, though there was no real heat behind her words.

Lance pouted, but dutifully shooed Mirana off the table. He shot a look at Keith, wondering if he found the bird situation as amusing as Lance did, but he was only met with a frown. Something uneasy sunk in Lance’s stomach. Keith’s feathers were all ruffled, and he was looking at the bird like he was jealous of it. His puzzled frown was sent Lance’s way when he noticed Lance looking at him. 

They still hadn’t talked, like Keith wanted. 

Alright, so maybe Lance was avoiding him. But what was he meant to say? Those things he thought about himself… he didn’t want anyone else to know them. They were his own secrets, his own shortcomings. Lance still didn’t know what Keith saw in him, what made Keith interested. Who was to say that that thing, whatever it was, wouldn’t disappear when Keith saw Lance the same way Lance did?

He’d managed to avoid thinking about it for a while now, at least since everyone was freed from the healing pods after the mission with the bird-obsessed people. He didn’t want to think about anything that had happened to them; not to Hunk, not to Pidge, not to Keith. Not to Lance himself. 

“Lance?” Keith murmured, his frown deepening. 

Lance forced a smile. “Mirana has pretty feathers, right?” He forced out. Conveniently, Mirana was flitting about his feet, flashing their wings whenever they happened to notice Lance glancing at them. “They have a big personality, huh?”

Keith hummed and turned his face away, disgruntled. His feathers were all ruffled again.

Dinner progressed relatively well. Lance laughed at jokes. He enjoyed Hunk’s food, like he usually did. He fed Mirana to keep them quiet when they realised the attention was no longer on them. The bird had become more comfortable around them, and around the castle, and now more of their personality was showing. For some reason, the bird reminded Lance of his family, though not because Mirana shared a name with his mother. Mirana-the-bird was more like… one of his brothers, or one of his unruly cousins. Not in a bad way, though.

Lance felt a little more at home with Mirana around, even if Mirana was technically an alien.

That night, after making sure Mirana was in their room, Lance retired to bed before the others. He was exhausted, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He always got a little jittery before a big mission, and sometimes his nerves overwhelmed him, like he’d been caught in a riptide. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust his teammates to keep him safe, but he doubted himself, and that was enough to poison his thoughts. 

He tossed and turned while he had the bed to himself. He missed Keith’s company, but he didn’t want to answer Keith’s questions. He knew that Keith was concerned about him, but… a part of him almost didn’t want Keith to be. He didn’t want to feel broken enough that he warranted that kind of concern. It was the strangest thing to think about, and it left him feeling more frustrated than before.

When Keith crept into his room later that evening, Lance was stuck in that place between consciousness and sleep. He pulled his wings around himself tighter when Keith shuffled in behind him, and managed to feign sleep convincingly when Keith murmured his name. It felt like hours passed before Keith went slack, his wings drooping across Lance’s waist and legs. 

Lance didn’t know what was stopping him so much. Fear? Of course he was afraid of what Keith would say if Lance admitted something so pitiful. It caused waves of something hot and shameful to rise up in his chest. 

As carefully as he could, Lance wriggled out of bed. Keith made a small, displeased noise, his feathers fluffing up. Lance waited by the edge of the bed until he was sure Keith couldn’t wake. Like this, asleep and vulnerable, Keith looked handsome. Softer than usual, but no less handsome. His hair was sprawled out across his pillow, and his hands were curled loosely. Lance wanted to crawl back into bed with him.

But he was too restless. Instead he slipped from the room as quietly as possible and made his way down to the hangar bays. The lions were where they’d been left, and for a moment Lance stood in Blue’s shadow, waiting to feel her presence. It felt like waiting for the rain. When he was sure she was there, that he could still sense her, he unfurled his wings and began to circle around the room.

Working out his extra energy by flying was a good distraction. It seemed like all he was doing was distracting himself lately, but in hindsight, it wasn’t working well. When he started to feel a strain in his wings, he landed on Blue’s nose, and let out a weary sigh. 

“You understand right, Blue?” He asked, though he expected no answer. He stared at the ceiling, but startled at the sound of the hangar bay doors opening. He hoped his voice hadn’t echoed, but no such luck.

“Lance?”

Wincing, Lance peered over the edge of Blue’s nose. “S-Shiro! Funny seeing you here.”

Even from as far away as he was, it was easy to tell that Shiro was frowning. “What are you doing up there?” He called.

Lance sighed again, and dropped his head against Blue’s cool surface. After a moment, he lifted his wings, and descended. His feet hit the ground a little harder than he intended, making his legs tingle. “I was just… flying.” Which was technically the truth, but he was still disobeying Allura’s rules.

“You know we’re not allowed to fly on the castle,” Shiro reminded him, arms folded, his wings low against his back. “It’s dangerous to fly in a confined space.”

“This is hardly confined,” Lance said, feathers bristling. “I just wanted to work out some energy. I couldn’t sleep.”

Shiro watched him for a silent moment. “Even though Keith’s there with you?”

“Huh?” For a moment, the question didn’t register. Lance’s wings twitched, curling in tight over his shoulders. His heart was getting louder and louder. “W-what do you mean?”

“Lance…”

Lance took a step back, feeling dizzy. He’d never been scared of Shiro, and he wasn’t then either, but there were other things that frightened him. Things this sort of conversation led to.

“I don’t need to tell you that this is a serious distraction…” Shiro started slowly. “I don’t think–”

“It’s none of your business!” Lance choked out, his face a horrible red. The hanger bay doors opened once more, and Mirana came barrelling in, their wings spread wide. When Mirana landed on Lance’s shoulder, peering at his face, he took the bird into his arms. Had Mirana heard their raised voices?

“Lance, as the leader of Voltron – and Keith’s friend, I feel like I need to say something,” Shiro said.

Lance flinched, shrinking into his shoulders. That’s right, wasn’t it? Shiro had known Keith a lot longer than Lance had, even before they’d met in the Garrison. They were just like brothers, Lance thought. And if one of Lance’s brothers were to disapprove of Keith, then Lance would be crushed. Shiro only ever had Keith’s best interests at heart, and if that best interest wasn’t Lance…

He couldn’t think of anything to say. 

“I don’t understand why neither one of you told me, or any one of us, that you were… seeing one another,” Shiro said. There was a strange look in his eyes, one of disappointment. “The team should know about–”

“No! No, definitely not,” Lance said, the words coming out rushed and angry and shaky. “It’s not your secret to tell.” It was Lance’s secret, _his,_ and he didn’t want to share it. “Don’t go- don’t go just sharing things that you shouldn’t even know!”

“Lance–”

“No, just–” Lance’s voice stalled. Mirana let out an unhappy squawk and bared their wings at Shiro, looking none too happy. They tried to lunge, but Lance squeezed them tighter, stumbling forwards. Mirana’s sudden aggression made Shiro back off.

“I’m sorry, Lance,” he said.

Lance ducked his head, trembling. He wanted to sink through the floor. Everything inside him felt loose and unravelled, and he was so, so tired. His eyes were burning, and his words came out short and harsh, but it wasn’t an anger directed at Shiro. If anything, neither were the words. “What are you even apologising for?”


	39. Thirty-Nine

Uncomfortable silence pressed on them, only broken by the low, constant trilling coming from Mirana. Lance stared at Shiro, his shoulders hunched, every part of him coiled and tense. 

“Lance,” Shiro started, “I’m not saying I disapprove. I’m just worried.”

Lance wasn’t convinced. They were in the middle of a war, what wasn’t there to worry about? Shiro had no right to talk to him about a relationship he wasn’t part of. So what if Lance was dating Keith? It was his decision. Wasn’t it? “I don’t want to hear about it,” he eventually said, voice pathetically shaky despite how firm his words came out. “It’s none of your business. None of your damn business.”

Shiro’s lips pressed into a thin line. He stepped aside as Lance pushed past him, their shoulders jarring together. He didn’t say a word about Lance’s behaviour. 

And that was the end of that.

 

Lance woke the next morning in an awful mood. He hadn’t been able to sleep for long when he’d finally crawled back into bed, and not even Keith’s company could cheer him up. He had a feeling that Keith knew he was upset, but the reason was still a mystery. Lance was filled with a twisting, shameful feeling when he thought about keeping it a secret from Keith. 

It was the same feeling he got when he thought about keeping his relationship a secret. Or telling anyone about it. He was drowning in confliction.

Breakfast that morning was a tense, uncomfortable affair. Lance didn’t meet Shiro’s eyes. Shiro tried to meet his. Everyone else was confused and fidgety. It was clear that Hunk wanted to ask Lance about it – he was probably the only one who could read Lance well enough to know that Lance was deeply unsettled. A part of Lance longed to tell Hunk everything, like he always had. There was something comforting about knowing that Hunk was there for him, that if he opened his mouth, Hunk would listen.

Whether Lance wanted to talk or not was another matter all of its own.

He escaped with the excuse of feeding Mirana after breakfast. Keith called after him, confused, but it just made Lance feel worse. Knowing that Shiro knew they were together… it made him feel watched. Scrutinized. Like every interaction between him and Keith was being judged in a different, revealing light. 

“At least you can’t look at me differently,” he told Mirana, as he brought them their food. The bird was far more interested in eating than listening to Lance, but that suited Lance just fine. “You were pretty fierce last night, huh? How did you even manage to sneak out of here?”

Mirana’s attention was entirely on their food, so Lance left them be. He checked that they had enough water before heading out. Their next mission would begin soon – they were scheduled to arrive at the planet’s solar system within the next day. He wasn’t quite sure what to do for himself, but it seems the choice had already been made for him.

Keith was waiting for him in the hallway. He had his arms crossed, but dropped them as he pushed away from the wall, casting a sour look into Mirana’s room. “How’s the bird?”

“Just eating,” Lance said. Despite his poor mood, Keith’s obvious disdain for the bird amused him. “Why don’t you like them?”

Keith’s wings fluffed up, his feathers going all bristly. “I don’t– it’s not that– it’s just a bird,” he scowled. He levelled his gaze directly on Lance. “I want you to train with me.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Now?”

Keith didn’t answer as he turned away from Lance, clearly intent on heading to the training deck. Lance follows, bewildered. Keith didn’t often ask him to train one-on-one, mostly because their fighting styles and their bayards were so different. That wasn’t to say they didn’t train at all, but it was a somewhat rare occurrence. 

The training deck was empty when they arrived. Lance shucked off his jacket and set it aside. He was dressed casually and so was Keith, which wasn’t the best idea for training, but there was no point in changing. While Keith fetched the training staffs, Lance arched his wings, pushing them up and out to the sides until his feathers quivered with the stretch of it. He’d become used to using his bayard so training with staffs was going to be a challenge, especially because he knew Keith was better than him at it, something he would only ever begrudgingly admit.

Keith had shrugged off his own jacket by the time he returned with the training staffs. He tossed one to Lance, who fumbled to catch it, and then rolled his shoulders, his large wings flaring out in a quick stretch. His eyes had become sharper, every line of his face tensing, setting in stone. It was the look he wore when he was focused, and it made a little thrill jolt down Lance’s spine. He didn’t know if it was attraction or intimidation. 

Maybe both.

“I don’t think–” Lance began, but Keith gave him no chance to voice his concerns about their difference in skill before he attacked. He was ruthless, swiftly crossing the space between them with the staff down low beside him, before swinging it up in a wide arch that Lance only just deflected in time. “H-hey! Keith–!”

A relentless fixation overcame Keith. He lunged forwards, spinning the staff between his palms with an ease that surprised Lance. It came down hard to Lance’s left, and he flapped his wings frantically, flying back several paces. Keith followed, his wings billowing out once to propel himself forwards. 

When his staff came down another time, Lance felt more prepared for it, the distance between them acting as a buffer. He planted his feet firm, wings pushed back, and swung his own staff up through the air. It clattered against Keith’s with a shock that made his hands tingle.

Somehow, Keith’s intensity began to sweep Lance away. All his anxieties shed from his mind, finding no room for themselves when he knew one slipup was going to give him an agonising bruise. He could tell that Keith was going easy on him, to some extent. That he didn’t actually want to hurt Lance, while still applying enough pressure to keep Lance worried.

In a way, it was easy to lose his mind in a fight, even if it was just sparring. Everything in him locked up, freezing in place. An instinctual urge to defend himself reared its head. He didn’t get any better at wielding a staff, but it made him more focused, made him see clearer in the same way fighting in Blue did. All of his thoughts narrowed, his vision tunnelling. 

By the time he finally had to call it quits, he was exhausted. His arms throbbed from the battering Keith had given him, and he was sure he was getting blisters without gloves to protect his palms. There’d been a few instances where Keith’s staff had gotten the better of him, and he was sure he was going to have bruises on his ribs and forearms where he’d been hit, but it was a good kind of pain. He hadn’t gotten Keith nearly as many times as he’d been hit himself, but the few whacks he’d managed still left him feeling oddly satisfied.

Exhausted, but satisfied. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” Keith asked, breathless. 

Lance could do nothing but pant for a moment, leaning against his staff for support. He tried to recall why he was keeping anything from Keith in the first place, but when he was this tired, anything he could come up with didn’t seem as important anymore. Still, it took him a moment to force the words out. “Shiro knows.”

Keith frowned, and opened his mouth to say something, but he said nothing. His wings curled tight around his shoulders. “What?”

“Shiro knows,” Lance repeated, frowning too. Unwilling to stay standing after their sparring session, he sat down on the floor, and let out a tired groan. He rested his staff against his thighs and stretched his wings. One of Keith’s blows had clipped his left wing bone, and it was stinging with soreness. “He told me last night.”

Keith prickled, his lips twisting down. For a moment he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself as he processed that information, but he came to sit down beside Lance after a second. “How did he find out?”

Lance shrugged. He had a feeling Shiro had gone to check on Keith after he’d come out of the healing pod, only to find him missing from his room. He’d thought that before too, and after finding out Shiro knew about them, he was more certain that he was right. “He must have gone looking for you and found you gone.”

“Why did he tell you he knew?” Keith asked. He sounded oddly aggravated, and wasn’t looking at Lance, not even when Lance looked at him. “He hasn’t said anything to me.”

Lance pulled his knees to his chest and tried not to hunch his shoulders. That was a good question. He clearly didn’t mean as much to Shiro as Keith did, so why confront him and not Keith about it? To warn him? Was it meant to be one of those stereotypical shovel talk situations? Or had Shiro just wanted to raise his concerns over a relationship between teammates?

Whatever the reason, Lance didn’t like it. 

Keith fluffed out a wing, tentatively putting it over Lance’s shoulders. The feel of his feathers brushing against the exposed skin at the back of Lance’s neck made him shiver. Any distance Lance might have felt between them after Shiro’s revelation completely evaporated. “I’ll talk to Shiro,” Keith said.

Lance could only shrug again. He didn’t like the sound of that either, but Keith’s relationship with Shiro was different than his. “Maybe he’ll forget,” he muttered, sounding miserable to his own ears. 

Keith pulled him a little closer, uncaring that they were both sweaty. “That can’t be the only thing that’s bothering you,” he said, quiet and not accusing. “I know it’s not.”

Uneasiness trickled through him. Lance curled up tighter around himself, looking away. That was another matter altogether, and he doubted any amount of prodding would get him to talk about it. He already felt exposed, knowing that their secret wasn’t their own anymore. It made something equally parts jealous and shameful swell up in him. He was so frightened of this new, fragile thing he had with Keith, so needy and desperate for Keith’s attention that he wanted to control every aspect of it. He needed to know that it wasn’t going to be ruined by something he had no influence over, that it wasn’t going to become difficult or painful to feel so much for Keith. To feel so intensely.

Restless, he dragged a hand through his hair, and tried to settle his tumultuous emotions. All the energy he’d worked out during the sparring session was starting to prickle at him again, spiking through him. His wings tensed and quivered, feathers shifting uncontrollably. 

Keith’s wing flexed behind him, no doubt feeling his mounting agitation. In one rough movement, he pinned Lance to the ground, rising to straddle his hips. His wings spread out wide and far with a burst of wind that fluttered through Lance’s hair. It was like a sky of onyx above him, shifting and refracting light as his wings stirred with every intake of breath Keith inhaled. Keith’s eyes, always so emotional, always so piercing, fixed on him. 

Lance burned at the intensity of it. Colour rose in his face. He could feel every point where they connected. Could feel himself swallowing back his panic to make room for something else. Something better. 

In a way, it was like he was being swallowed by the ocean. The thought sent an aching pang through him, but it was bearable, it was familiar. 

“How many times do I need to convince you that I want this?” Keith murmured, his fingers squeezing Lance’s wrists. Lance jolted at the question, wondering if Keith could read his desperation, read his neediness. Wondering if Keith felt it too.

When Keith kissed him then, it wasn’t like all the other times. It was hard and fast. Demanding, taking, _wanting._ Wanting more, wanting him. Lance’s surprise at the forcefulness of it was muffled between their lips, swallowed and thrown away, buried under Keith’s wings. This kiss wasn’t a give and take. Wasn’t a gentle exploration. 

It was Keith pressing down on him, Keith holding him still, Keith keeping him right where he wanted him. It was their bodies connecting more and more, at the waist, at the hips, at the chest. At somewhere hidden behind their ribs. It was Keith blanketing them in his wings, smothering them, drowning them. He pushed closer like he was aching for it, like Lance had denied him something he needed to live. Like he was ready to take everything Lance could give, and then more.

Keith’s teeth flashed as he pulled away, biting at his own lip. He was panting just as hard as Lance was, and all at once, the tension in his wings and shoulders fell away. He ducked his head, pressing his forehead against Lance’s collarbones, wings slumping. Lance breathed in the scent of Keith’s hair, resting his cheek against the top of Keith’s head. His arms went around Keith’s waist, grasping fistfuls of the back of his shirt, his bare arms caressed by inky feathers. 

After a quiet moment, Keith asked, “Want to spar again?”

Lance closed his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been quite busy lately, hence this delayed update. I'm working on a thesis for my university degree, amongst other assessments and a new ancient history minor I'm trying to navigate. I also recently adopted a puppy, and he's been a lot of work (that I'm rather enjoying). I still plan to update at least once a week, so hopefully I can manage that alright!


	40. Forty

Night saw the castle arriving at their next mission destination. Lance was on the observation deck when the planets and their moons swung into view. They weren’t exactly what he expected, but in a good way. 

The three primary planets were small, about Earth’s size or less. For the most part they were average in appearance, each ranging from a murky grey to a silvery-blue with noticeable water bodies. They weren’t familiar to him, but he wasn’t sure how much of what he was seeing was hovering in the planet’s atmosphere and what was actually on the surface. In either case, their moons were far more interesting.

Each planet was haloed by two moons, but if he hadn’t known what they were, he wouldn’t have called them that. They looked like crystal clusters, all sharp, geometric lines and hexagonal pillars. None of the moons were round. Instead, each was a different accumulation of massive outcroppings ending in tall points. They almost looked like the crystals – minerals, Lance guessed – had grown out of the very centre of the planet. The size was unimaginable. 

“Woah,” Pidge murmured beside him. They had decided to join Lance when Allura announced their arrival. “What is that?”

“The moons,” Lance said, though it was obvious. He still felt dazed. Each moon was a hypnotic silvery-grey colour, some clusters verging on black in places. Light and colour seem to run along its edges in lines and pointed flares, reflecting anything nearby stars were giving off. 

“They don’t look like any moon I’ve ever seen,” Hunk said. Despite the dazzling sights the moons made, they cast an uneasy mood on the room. This was rapidly becoming something they’d never dealt with before. How could anyone on Earth imagine something like this existed somewhere out in space? Lance was still reeling, his mind trying to comprehend the sheer size of what he was seeing. How could crystals, or minerals for that matter, grow large enough to orbit a planet?

Sighing, Lance turned away from the view of space, tucking his wings in closer to his shoulders. He didn’t like being reminded of just how far from Earth he was. “I’m going to go put on my armour,” he said, placing a hand on Hunk’s shoulder as he passed him. Both Hunk and Pidge remained on the observation deck, but Lance was too restless to sit still.

By the time he’d suited up and headed to the control room where Allura, Coran and Shiro waited, they were descending onto their host planet, the one furthest out. No Galra activity or presence had been spotted since they’d arrived, so Allura had deemed it safe enough to land. Lance sat down in his appointed chair while he watched the planet draw closer and closer. A moment after he’d taken a seat, Keith wandered into the room, already decked out in his red armour.

Lance was a little relieved when Keith came out to sit on the floor by him, his big wings fluffed out on either side. He could tell Shiro when glanced over at them, but Lance didn’t meet his gaze. He still hadn’t worked out how to act, or what to say. But he was working on it. Keith’s presence was grounding, and it kept his thoughts from spiralling. In a way, Keith made his mind go blank. It wasn’t a bad thing.

“Did you get a look at the moons?” Lance asked, as he bent over the arm of the chair to speak to Keith. 

“Yeah.” A frown twisted at the corner of Keith’s lips. “It doesn’t look easy to navigate. Are they mining from the protrusions, or from beneath them?”

Lance shrugged. He hadn’t thought about that. “It really depends what’s past those larger protrusions, since we can’t see past them well. Maybe the terrain is flatter beneath them.”

“Maybe,” Keith agreed. He propped up one leg, looking out past Allura and Coran to the planet. “At least that seems normal enough,” he said, gesturing with a hand.

Lance followed his gaze. It seemed like the atmospheres of the planets were speckled with earthy platforms, ones capable of sustaining life – like floating islands. The gravity in this corner of the universe was delicate enough to keep them lifted. Beneath them was a more average looking plain: predominantly watery grasslands, with what looked like a couple of inches of water covering most of the solid land. There were dry patches, some the size of large cities, but where they were landing was part of the water-covered terrain.

“Wonder what the people will be like,” he murmured to himself.

Keith snorted, his feathers ruffling, sticking up like raised hackles. “Better than the last ones we met, I hope.”

Lance’s stomach twisted. He hoped that, as well. Even just thinking about what had happened made his wings tingle. He doubted any surprise civil wars would suddenly crop up, but if they did, he’d be sure to get out of there. Fighting the Galra was almost welcome in comparison to that.

A short while later, when everyone had gathered, dressed in their armour, the castle touched ground. Coran ran scans of the planet and deemed its air breathable, so helmets where left behind as the paladins and Allura disembarked. 

The world outside was surprisingly bright, despite the grey overtone colouring everything as far as he could see. Lance had seen the water from the castle, but stepping down into it still sent a little jolt through him. His foot sunk up to his ankle before reaching surprisingly solid ground. Grass peered up through the water in spiky clumps, but parted when the water rippled, almost like they had the same consistency as seaweed back on Earth. 

The people that came to greet them looked surprisingly… gentle. They had long, thin legs with an extra joint above the ankle, ending in tiny, dainty feet that almost looked like clawless paws. Their bodies were equally as thin, but round, and devoid of sharp edges or lines. They didn’t have human-shaped heads; instead, their faces were flatter, with a soft slope for a nose, and high, triangular ears at the top of their skull. Their eyes were wide and docile. 

Lance wasn’t sure if they had hair or not, because each wore a hooded cloak that their car-like ears poked out of. The lip of the hood was lined with white fur, and a clasp at the base of their neck kept it tucked in close to their cheeks. The cloaks all went down to about their knees, and moved strangely when they walked, like gravity was affecting the fabric in a different way to the rest of the world. It was mesmerizing to watch. Just as hypnotising as watching the way the grass seemed to whisper where they walked by, parting as if nudged aside by a gentle hand.

“Thank you for welcoming us,” Allura said, as she offered a hand to the one that stepped forwards to greet her. Their ears flicked forwards as they regarded her hand with wide, curious eyes, before they placed their hand in hers, and allowed it to be clasped.

“It is our pleasure,” they said, dipping their chin once. “Please forgive our language barrier. This language is still… a stranger to us.”

“Of course,” Allura assured them. “We’re here to do all that we can to help.”

They dipped their head again, then turned to the side, sweeping out one arm. “Come. We have prepared a place to stay.”

And so they followed. Lance made sure to keep his wings tilted up a little so that his feathers didn’t trail through the water. He cut Keith a sharp glance when he didn’t bother to, and Keith’s wings perked right up real quick.

Considering the landscape was mostly flat, Lance couldn’t help but wonder where these people lived. There were short trees and shrubbery, but nothing substantial enough to live in, and everything here was covered in several inches of still water. 

His thoughts were answered, however, when they were escorted to what looked like a ruin made from the same mineral of the planet’s moons. There were crumbled buildings, or something more like a temple, sitting in a circular space between a clump of trees. The leader walked towards what was left of the structure, and pressed their hand against a circular tile still left on a partially standing wall. Almost instantly it began to glow with a soft grey light. Ripples went through the water, gently at first, but then faster. 

All at once, the water began to recede. Lance’s eyebrows shot up as he watched the water inch away from him, moving back the way they’d came. The other paladins seemed just as surprised.

When the water finished seeping away, the light travelled down from the tile to the ground, filling in groves to form a circular pattern Lance hadn’t noticed through the water. In one smooth movement, the circular shapes mapped out by the light eased apart, revealing a hidden passage beneath. 

“That was so cool,” Hunk said, nudging Lance with his elbow. “Alien engineering is just amazing, right?”

Lance could only nod dumbly. He wasn’t sure how any of it worked, but it was definitely interesting. 

The underground tunnel was dry, despite being underwater. The descended down a short flight of stairs and came out in what felt like an underground courtyard. Plants grew from every wall and hung from the ceiling, and while it was beautiful, the ceiling itself was far more interesting. Somehow, the layer of water they’d just been walking through remained above them – as they delved deeper into the tunnel, the surface they’d walked on above ground disappeared, replaced only by a ceiling of water. 

Lance gaped at it. “How is the water staying up there?” 

“That’s amazing,” Allura marvelled, a friendly smile curling at her lips. The patterns the water cast on her skin almost seemed to make her markings glow. Lance saw Shiro staring at her, and once again wondered if there was something more between them, though it wasn’t his place to ask.

The tunnel led to a larger, open space. Light filtering through the water ceiling made it seem as though they were above ground, and the amount of breathable air produced by the plants covering the walls kept the temperature cool and crisp, two things Lance was immensely relieved for. There were more of the native people underground, peering through corridor entrances and arched doorways. 

A meeting room had been established a little further in. It was wide and circular, and fitted with cushions to sit on. Their hosts brought out food and drinks and encouraged them to sit. Lance picked at the plate given to him, wondering if everything was edible. There were little bread-like treats covered in grey shards, though it smelled like some sort of sugary fruit. The drink looked and tasted like water, which was a welcome relief, though the cup it sat in was interesting. It looked like it was made out of the mineral ore from the moons, but was soft to the touch. Although it felt very malleable, like the slightest touch might bend it, it was completely solid.

“Please, have something to replenish your energy,” their host said, as they gracefully folded themselves down onto the pillow across from Allura and the paladins. “We shall speak as we eat.”

Lance glanced at Hunk, seated beside him. Hunk had better instincts when it came to food, especially because he knew more about the foods they’d been eating in space. Considering Hunk seemed more than happy to try the food, Lance felt content to do the same.

“This one is nice,” Keith murmured, leaning over Lance’s way to point at something that looked like a pebble. “Sort of like chocolate, but not as sweet.”

Curious, Lance took a bite. It tasted exactly like Keith had described, though it was a little more solid than he expected, and hollow on the inside. “It’s nice.”

Keith gave him a small smile and settled back onto his cushion, looking satisfied. Lance wanted to laugh at his behaviour but he kept himself quiet. He was starting to read Keith easier now, and it filled him with a tiny sense of delight, one he felt he could easily keep to himself. This was one of those times where Keith’s company was keeping him from worrying too much. He was starting to take advantage of that more.

“Now,” Allura started, as she set aside her glass and donned a serious expression. “Where to begin?”


	41. Forty-One

Much of the discussion was spoken with clipped, fragmented phrases. Their hosts were remarkably apologetic about the language barrier, but Allura’s reassurances seemed to ease their minds. For the most part, the first few hours were spent discussing previous Galra attacks and the most strategic places to defend and launch an attack. They had the luxury of relative safety, which meant they also had the time to discuss everything in detail.

The rotation of these plants generally meant that the outer two, with their corresponding pair of moons, were the most accessible. The one they’d landed on was the most populated, and for the sake of situating each planet, the one they dubbed third in the line. One of its moons was proportionally smaller than the other, but in comparison to all six moons in the system, it was average. Strategically speaking, patrolling the first planet would be the wisest decision. The vast majority of Galra sightings were caught by that planet’s inhabitants.

“There’s little difference between the moons in terms of resource wealth,” Allura explained, when the talks had temporarily disbanded, and the Paladins were all gathered around a low table together. “They’re not all the same, but it’s reasonable to assume any could be targeted, even if the outer ones are easier to reach.”

Lance frowned as he observed the map being projected from a small device Allura had placed on the table. All the planets and their moons were mapped out, caught between long dotted lines marked with numbers he didn’t quite understand – trajectories, degrees of axis tilt, that sort of thing. He’d learned to read maps and scans like these in the Garrison, but it was different in space. Before, it was only maps that showed the extent of what humans knew.

The Alteans knew a whole lot more.

“For the most part, the Galra target whatever moon they come into contact with first,” Allura continued. She fiddled with the projection, and a handful of red dots appeared to mark where each moon had been attacked in recent times. “None are particularly well equipped with offensive weaponry. Defensive shields seem to do the trick; their offensive powers aren’t as extensive. The Galra are still able to take what they need, but they’d never been able to capture and colonise one of the moons.”

“If we don’t know where they’re going to come from, how do we know where to defend?” Lance asked, frowning at the projection. The collection of red dots seemed completely random to him. There was no pattern. “It’s not like we can be in six places at once.”

“That’s the problem we currently face,” Allura said. “The attacks have been increasing in frequency. Defending the moons is our top priority, but their numbers overwhelm ours – even if we put one lion and the castle to each moon, that leaves the planets themselves unaccounted for. Not to mention our resources would be spread very thin.”

“Focusing on the outer moons would be our best bet,” Shiro said, giving the projections a considerate look. “The majority of attacks hit them. Their distance does pose a problem for us, though. If we needed to form Voltron, being so far apart would make it impossible.”

Allura frowned, contemplative. 

Lance felt like his head was being run in circles. They couldn’t defend all of the moons at the same time. Separating would weaken their strength because they wouldn’t be able to form Voltron, and they would be unable to help one another if the need quickly arose. He couldn’t think of a solution. It was a guessing game of trying to figure out when and where the next Galra attack was going to be. He knew that it would be soon – they couldn’t wait around here forever when there was a universe to save, no matter how much they wanted to protect everyone – but predicting where the Galra would come from was almost impossible. 

Leaning back, Lance tried not to let it all overwhelm him. He knew his leaders would come up with a plan, but feeling so blind left him unsettled. 

 

The next morning, after a few hours of sleep on the castle, they were sent out on patrols. All systems were on high alert, and without much to do other than keep a strict vigil, the Lions were sent out to scout the outer moons. Lance didn’t like the idea of separating, but it wasn’t his call to make – he and Pidge took one end of the system, Hunk and Keith at the other, with Shiro at the two moons in the middle.

At least it was interesting to see the moons up close. He flew Blue close to the jagged surface of one, rolling and diving out of the way of impossibly large, metallic protrusions. Each moon was like an explosion frozen in time, bursting out from a centre hidden deep down. He’d tried to guide Blue in deeper, hoping to see where the mineral mines were, but they were almost impossible to find in a vessel the size of a Lion. 

“Any news?” He asked through the communications line as he completed another circuit around the moon. He’d lost count of how many he’d done now. Four? Five?

Shiro’s face flickered up on one of the screens. “Nothing yet,” he said. “Keith? Hunk?”

“Nothing. This feels pointless,” Hunk said, as his face appeared, too. Lance stilled Blue to listen, his gaze jumping between the faces of his teammates as the screens all appeared. From the privacy of his Lion, he was free to stare at Keith for a little longer than necessary.

“I don’t want to say it’s pointless, but…” Shiro pursed his lips. “As much as our presence might draw Galra ships here, it could deter them, too. The point isn’t to fight the Galra over these moons – it’s to protect them, to enforce the fact that these planets fall under the protection of the Coalition.”

“So what do we do?” Lance questioned. “We’ve been out here for ages, they could have seen us and decided it wasn’t worth the fight.”

“That’s possible. Regroup,” Shiro instructed. “Back to the castle, for now. We’ll have to come up with something else.”

Lance had just rounded the moon’s other side, with the planets back in sight once more, when the familiar ripple of a wormhole opening shot through Blue’s sensors. He swung Blue around, eyes frantically searching the black abyss of space beyond, but it wasn’t his moon the Galra ships were advancing through the wormhole towards. It was Pidge’s.

Pidge’s surprised shout echoed down the communication’s line. “Incoming!” 

It was only one large Galra ship – not a battle one, like the ones they’d seen before, but a transport one; wider, with a deeper hull and smaller thrusters. It had lighter weaponry mounted on the outside of the ship, and probably nothing more than troops of sentry droids on board to ensure the planet’s native people cooperated. The ship, however, was still equipped with battle droids; they spilled from its hull like wasps from a hive, purple lights blinking into existence as the Green Lion spun out of their way. 

Allura’s voice filtered through his helmet. “What’s going on?”

“Just one ship,” Pidge said. “Gonna need some help over here!”

Lance urged Blue on faster. He rounded the moon Pidge had been defending and crowded behind Green’s back. At almost the same time, both Lions released a beam from their jaws, lighting up a row of battle droids like fireworks on either side of them. 

“I’ve got this side,” Lance said.

Pidge twisted Green away from Blue. “Got it.”

Steadying Blue, Lance took a deep breath, and then headed in. He rolled Blue out of the way of blasts from the droids, using her powerful paws and jaw to crush any that came too close. Her mouth cannon took care of any battle droids that tried to stream past him. Bits of metal skittered along Blue’s sides as sparking fires washed over her maw with each broken droid. He could almost feel the heat on his skin. 

Across the battlefield from him, Pidge tumbled out of the way of a rain of blasts. One caught Green’s flank, singing it, and Pidge’s resulting cry made Lance’s head snap up. He powered up Blue’s ice ray and blasted the droids chasing Green’s tail. They froze instantly, sparking where the ice hadn’t quite reached, before they drifted off like chunks of unresponsive space rock. 

“You alright Pidge?” Lance called.

“Yeah.” Pidge sounded breathless as they swung Green around to face him. “Thanks.”

The battle was quickly over after that. Black swooped in from behind them, roaring. The remaining battle droids were destroyed, and with three Lions, they were able to take the transport ship out of commission by destroying its thrusters. It left the ship with a gaping hole in its side, but it wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

Lance found himself still feeling uneasy as they took control of the ship. A cursory scan done by the castle revealed that it was piloted exclusively by the droids. It took a bit of work, but Pidge and Hunk managed to remotely hack into the ship’s systems from one of its outer ports in order to power it down. Completely dark, the ship was left to sit where it was. 

“That felt too easy,” Lance said, as they docked the Lions back at the castle. He’d found Keith almost as soon as he disembarked – or rather, Keith had been waiting for him, wings tense and feathers ruffled. “Did that feel too easy to you?”

Keith didn’t answer immediately. His eyes roved up and down Lance once. “Are you alright? You’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Confused, Lance tilted his head to the side, regarding Keith with inquisitive eyes. It hadn’t occurred to him that Keith would be worried about him. They had been sent to opposite ends of the system, and by the time Keith had arrived at the Galra ship in Red, the battle was already over. Lots of things could have gone bad before he’d gotten there. “Yeah, I’m fine. Not even a bruise.”

Although he didn’t appear outwardly affected, Lance knew Keith well enough to notice the small changes in his expression, the ones that betrayed his relief. Lance thought that if the situation had been reversed, he would have felt just as worried as Keith evidently had. 

“It does feel easy,” Keith finally said. “They’re bound to know that their supply ship has been intercepted here when they don’t make the jump back through.”

Lance nodded in agreement. The Galra were sure to notice when their ship stopped transmitting a signal. It was likely they had already noticed, even if Pidge had taken measures to shield their return signal for a short while. From what they’d gathered from the natives, they didn’t have long before the Galra would notice something was up, anyway. Their plundering never lasted too long, and they’d never met resistant like this before.

In either case, they’d made one step in the right direction, he thought.

Even if he was certain something was off about the entire situation. 

“Sending an unmanned ship was relaxed too,” he said. “They didn’t expect to encounter any resistance.”

“Or they didn’t want any major losses if they did.”

Lance hadn’t thought of it that way, but that was true too. “Does that mean they’ll send something heavier now that they know we’re here?”

“They might.” Keith frowned, his wings bristling. “Though I don’t know what their angle is here. Sure, there’s mineral ore to steal, but surely they have deposits of it in Galra-controlled territory, too. Why come to such far reaches of the universe to get it?”

Lance could only shrug in response to that. He didn’t know. They’d have to bring it up with the team and see what everyone else thought. It was certainly strange, now that he was thinking so hard about it. He was just glad no one had gotten hurt this time around. 

After glancing around to make sure no one was watching them, Keith grabbed Lance by the shoulders and reeled him in for a quick hug. His wings brushed against Lance’s, quick but firm, and unmistakeably affectionate. While he had the chance, Lance breathed in deeply, letting the feel of Keith’s body pressed against his own calm him. The last of his anxious energy dissipated. Lance wished the hug had lasted for more than a moment.

“Come on, we should get back to the others,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to take a bit of a break from writing my longer fics to focus on university assignments, but my session is finished now, and I have a bit of a break before I get back to study haha. Hopefully I can update again soon!


	42. Forty-Two

Lance was dozing in the underground meeting room with the natives when the Galra reappeared. It had been a full day cycle since they shut down the transport ship. Throughout the day and night, they’d been doing patrols around the moons, two Lions at a time. He and Hunk had just arrived back from their shift and had been resting for less than an hour when the warning came through.

“Incoming Galra ships! At least six!”

It was Shiro’s voice coming through the communications line in his helmet. He hadn’t slept with it on, but it was close by him on the cushions, and the warning had woken him. Scrambling upright, he’d shoved the helmet on and bolted down the hallway beneath the water ceilings and up the stairs to get to the surface. The Lions were stationed nearby. It only took minutes for them to get on the sky, with Keith appearing from the castle to join them.

By the time they arrived at the battlefield, it was complete chaos. Black and Greek were caught in the midst of battle droids and fighter ships, way more than two Lions could handle. Six battle carriers loomed in the near distance, larger than the castle and full of heavy weaponry. As Lance approached in Blue, they started unleashing cannon beams from the front running ships, making the Lions scatter.

“What’s their objective here?” Keith demanded down the communication lines. “What are they targeting?”

Lance rolled Blue out of the way of incoming droids, using her mouth cannon to destroy the ones he couldn’t evade. As soon as the debris blast cleared, more replaced it. “There are so many of them!”

“Lance, behind you!” Pidge shouted. 

A blast rocked Blue forwards, making Lance grind his teeth as he was almost thrown from the pilot’s seat, wings flaring. Green soared past him, tail laser raised and active. 

“I thought they would be going after the moons,” Hunk said, his voice rushed as Yellow came to a screeching halt beside Blue. It wasn’t long before a wave of droids careened between them, sending them spiralling away from one another. “Are they trying to take us out first?”

Lance didn’t want to sound cocky, but anytime the Galra and Voltron fought, it was always with equal power going up against equal power. Rivalling Voltron was extremely difficult, and that required Robeasts or entire fleets of battle ships. Six was a hefty number, and the amount of offensive weaponry they seemed to be carrying was a worry, but Voltron had come up against worse and won before. 

It wasn’t like the Galra wouldn’t fight dirty, either – Lance almost expected them to go after the inhabited parts of the planets to distract Voltron. Between defending innocent lives and going on the offensive to destroy their fleet, it was obvious what the Paladins would choose every time. But they weren’t doing that, either. The Galra ships continued their slow advance, pouring out more and more droids and fighter ships. 

They would be overwhelmed at this rate.

“We need to keep the battle away from the moons,” Shiro instructed. Black swept past, the Lion’s hulking form briefly pausing by Blue and Green as Shiro gave his orders. “Make sure none of the battle droids get past us. We can’t afford to take the battle near the atmosphere of the planets.”

Lance agreed. He drove Blue’s controls forwards, sending the Lion straight into the middle of things. Powering up her ice ray, Lance cleared the immediate path with one wide sweep. Ice and frost hung suspended in the air, caught for mere moments before disappearing. He pushed Blue onwards. 

Something wasn’t making sense. He could feel a prickling sensation starting at the back of his neck, the one he got when he knew something was going to go wrong. Even as he ducked and weaved out of the way of cannon blasts coming from the main ships, he couldn’t think of what he was missing. Couldn’t see the conclusions he must have overlooked somewhere along the way.

The battle didn’t give him much time to focus. His mind ebbed away, overtaken by instincts, by the desire to live and protect. He could feel Blue’s roar in his veins. Together they cleared the path in front of them, over and over. Droids splintered and fractured into metal chunks that drifted out into empty space. Fighter crafts exploded when they fell prey to Blue’s tail cannon. He rolled out of the way of an incoming blast and came up beside Red, whose head swung towards him.

“You okay?” Keith shouted.

“Yeah.” Lance couldn’t manage to say more before Blue and Red were driven apart by another searing blast. He twisted Blue backwards, going head over tail. How could there still be so many enemy ships? He could see Black and Green taking out dozens at a time, and Yellow barrelling through any that got in the way. Across from him, Red unleashed a stream of molten fire. Again and again they were pushed apart, overwhelmed and herded by the sheer number of enemies flooding the battlefield.

“Maybe we should form Voltron,” he said, eyes searching the space around him for somewhere to fit. The dark masses of the Galra ships loomed to one side, and the glinting moons to the other. It was like being trapped in between a rock and a hard place.

“We might have no other choice,” Hunk agreed. 

This sort of battling didn’t usually require Voltron. Lance was getting better at understanding the Galra battle styles usually used against them, at predicting how attacks would be carried out. While these enemies were never easy to defeat, they were smaller than the Lions, and so remaining as individuals usually gave them a better chance at winning. Why make themselves one big target when five smaller ones were more likely to ease the amount of fire they took?

But this was getting out of hand. Even as Lance’s question was considered by the others, the fast moving pace of the battle demanded their attention. 

“There’s no end to them,” Pidge grunted, voice pitched with frustration. “I can’t get close to the ships to take out the hulls.”

Lance tried to spot Green amidst the sea of black around him, but it was almost impossible. He fired up Blue’s ice ray again and cast a wide arc of ice around him. It destroyed the nearby droids just as quickly as they came. How could it be possible that there were so many? 

Had all six of the main Galra ships exclusively carried battle droids?

Lance scanned the space spread out before him for Keith, and tried to steer Blue in that direction. Waves of battle droids rose up in front of him, faster than before. He groaned as Blue was battered from one side and had to abandon his plan to get to Keith in order to defend her. “Guys–”

Another blast collided with Blue. He yelped as his Lion was jerked sideways. Smoke lurched across his view as Lance tried to straighten Blue out. He felt a droid crumble against Blue’s side, battered away by the weight of the Lion. Again and again he fought off incoming droids, his mind racing to keep up, to see every danger before it got too close.

“There’s too many of them,” Hunk said, his voice tinged with rough panic. “I can’t keep holding them off on my own.”

Pidge let out a small noise as Green flinched away from a blast from the main Galra ships. “I can’t get any closer to you!”

Neither could Lance. It didn’t matter who he tried to get near – Keith, Hunk, Pidge, Shiro; any of them – the droids always got in the way. Again, that prickling sensation started at the base of his neck. He felt like he was being herded. Every time he tried to go in one direction, he was immediately sent spiralling in the other. It was like… it was like the Galra were trying to keep them apart. 

And if they were apart, they couldn’t form Voltron.

Lance bit as his lip as his eyes ran across the scene before him. They had to get closer to the main ships, take out the hulls before anymore droids could be released. Determined, he pushed Blue forwards, using her ice ray to carve a path for himself. She rolled and twisted out of the way of the ongoing droids with ease. Her mouth cannon was less accurate than her tail laser but its reach was wider, its blows much more powerful. 

Soon enough the shadow of the closest Galra ship loomed over him. He activated Blue’s jaw blade and dragged it down the side of the hull, shearing through the metal. Sparks erupted in his wake. One side of the opened hull was incapacitated, but that didn’t stop droids from spilling out of the other.

“We need to destroy the ships,” he called down the communications line, as he swung Blue around to face the battlefield. “We should form Voltron!”

Shiro’s agreement was something Lance could sense more than he could hear. This battle was dragging out for too long. It was like trying to fight against the sea; impossible and endless.

“They’re separating us too much,” Hunk shouted. “I can’t get past them.”

“Me either!” Pidge said.

Lance propelled Blue off the side of the Galra ship. He soared above the droids spilling out of its belly and sailed towards the closets Lion he could see – Red. But no matter how much he pushed forwards, how many droids he blasted out of the way, he came no closer. The frustration from his teammates bled through their connection.

Something emerged from one of the Galra ships.

It wasn’t shaped like anything Lance had ever seen before. The ship was sleek and pointed, with offensive weaponry installed on its outer shell. This was fast, faster than the droids. 

“What is that?” Pidge shouted.

And then, suddenly, it made sense.

Why would the Galra want to keep the Lions distracted and separated, unable to form Voltron? Why ignore the moons and the planets when it was clear they wouldn’t outlast a fight if Voltron did manage to form? Why herd them away from each other, sacrifice hundreds of ships to keep them spread out?

To catch them.

Lance saw that it was going to happen before it did. If he’d remained close to the ships, if he’d tried to destroy the other side of one of them, then he would have been captured. The timing had been perfect – a complete coincidence that he’d been the one to get close. But then he’d moved, trying to get towards Red, and now Keith stood in between the fleets of droids and the new ship.

He didn’t even think. He’d already seen Keith been captured once, and he couldn’t stand that again. He couldn’t. Driving Blue forwards, he barrelled through all the droids, feeling Blue come to life with a renewed energy beneath his hands. He let out a frantic, “Keith!” before slamming headfirst into the Red Lion. Keith’s pained cry echoed through his helmet.

The new ship lurched over him. Its front end opened wide like a set of jaws, clamping around Blue’s waist like she was a toy needing to be carried. A jolt of electricity hotter than lightning erupted from deep within the Galra ship, sparking over Blue so hard that all the lights in her interior fizzled. Lance felt the electricity jolt up his arms. The pain was enough to make him dizzy.

“Lance!” Keith shouted.

As quickly as it had emerged, the Galra ship began to retreat. Its thrusters spun on their axis, facing the opposite direction to change the way it moved without needing to turn around. Lance’s body was frozen. He felt like his mind had been disconnected from his limbs. 

Blue wasn’t responding.

The sound of a wormhole tearing open rippled through the air. He jerked in his seat, body fighting off the lingering effects of the electric pulse that had registered Blue immobile. Clenching his fingers around Blue’s controls, he tried to restart her, but something was wrong. He couldn’t shake her free of the jaws keeping her limp.

“Keith!” He cried. “I can’t- I can’t move Blue!”

“Hold on, Lance, I’m coming–”

Lance shouted as everything began to shake. The communications line hissed into silence. With a sinking feeling of horror, he realised he’d been dragged straight through the wormhole, that it’d closed behind him.

There was no way back.


	43. Forty-Three

Darkness closed over Blue, locking them in a space that felt like the inside of a mouth. Lance pushed at her controls, willing her to come back online, but she was completely locked up and frozen. No sensors, no weapons, no communication lines. He scanned the horizon, saw the faint purple glow of a Galra ship, before tremors shook Blue so hard he was almost thrown from his seat. Something locked onto her from behind, docked her inside the waiting bay of a ship, and then all light disappeared as the doors shut.

For a moment, everything was so dark that all he saw were spots dancing in front of his eyes. His own heavy, damp breathing filled Blue’s cockpit.

Minutes ticked by as his eyes slowly adjusted to the low light. Blue had been dragged inside an empty hanger bay. There were no lights, and no guards anywhere to be seen. He tried Blue’s controls again, but she was still quiet. Something must have been blocking her from working – was that even possible? Could the Galra remotely shut down the Lions?

No, it shouldn’t have been possible. Lance didn’t really understand how the Lions worked, not in detail, but they weren’t batteries. They didn’t have on and off switches. They were almost sentient, working autonomously in response to their pilots, and to the needs of the team. He was sure they couldn’t be hacked or infiltrated, not like this. It had to be an outside source. 

Outside…

Anxious, Lance stood, and rushed out of Blue’s cockpit, taking his bayard with him. He knew the Lions could be tampered with from the outside – the electrified nets from the planet Mirana was from was evidence enough. In the heat of battle, had Blue been implanted with something?

While the hangar was empty, he slipped outside of Blue. His breathing sounded so loud in the dead silence, and he was immediately grateful that his helmet muffled almost all of it. 

The dark bulk of Blue registered in his mind the same way his childhood house in the dark did: he had some intrinsic sense of where everything was, even if he couldn’t see well. He was reluctant to turn on the lights in his helmet, knowing it would reveal exactly where he was, but he had no choice but to fly in order to scale Blue’s sides, despite the fact that his armour made moving a little cumbersome. 

He kept his hand pressed against her metal as he scaled one front leg. He knew her shape like the back of his hand, could see her ridges and curves as solid black shapes in the dark. He was sure any irregularities would be noticeable. 

Sometimes it was easy to forget just how large Blue was. It took him several painfully long minutes to check her front legs, and several more for him to glide under her chin, her chest, and then her belly. All the while he could hear the clanging and crashing of a ship in motion, the rhythmic, echoing footsteps of soldiers. It made a cold sweat break out on his forehead.

What if he was wrong? How much time did he had before the Galra would come and imprison him? He wondered if the hangar bay was the prison. It would make sense if they thought Blue was out of commission. There would be no need to separate him from her if that was the case, not if they thought he had nowhere to go and nothing to defend himself with.

He was gliding up Blue’s right hind leg when a lump caught his eyes. He titled himself towards it, digging his fingertips into the ridges in Blue’s plating to hold himself steady as he scrutinised the object. It was relatively small and flat, maybe the width of a basketball, and only a couple of inches tall. He ran his fingers around its hexagonal sides but found no seam keeping it connected to Blue.

This must’ve been what was keeping her offline.

Frustration welled in him. He dug the edge of his bayard into the Galra disk, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pushed. He flapped his wings back, putting more force into his arms, but the disk couldn’t be pried loose. Lance let out an exhausted gasp as his bayard skittered free, unable to find a seam to wedge into. 

He needed a new plan. His wings beat several times as he propped his feet against Blue, his bayard transforming into its plasma gun form. He braced it against his arm, whispered a quick, “Sorry, Blue,” and then squeezed the trigger.

The sound of the gun going off was jarring. Lance flinched back, his wings pedalling to keep him steady as smoke plumed up from the disk. He flinched again at the sound of an alarm came from the disk, and barely muffled a frantic curse. When the smoke cleared, a sparking dent in the disk revealed itself. Relief crashed through him. He drew nearer, letting his bayard deactivate, and hooked one end under the new edge in the disk.

With a groan, he heaved it free. He fumbled with it for a moment, wings flapping wildly, but managed to keep a hold on it. He hadn’t expected it to be so heavy. 

A blaring alarm, from the ship this time, almost had him dropping the disk again.

He only just managed to supress a yelp as deep red lights flooded the hangar bay. He hadn’t considered the fact that the disk was probably alarmed. Why bother with guards if the Lion couldn’t move, after all? They’d know if he managed to remove the disk – they just hadn’t assumed he’d risk leaving the safety of Blue. Of course the Galra would employ a failsafe on the off chance he did manage to get around their cage. 

Lance hauled himself back into Blue, driven by the rapid thumping sounds of approaching footsteps and the clang of the hanger bay doors jolting open.

Gunfire flew past him. He sucked in a sharp breath and activated his jetpack, needing the extra boost. 

“He wasn’t meant to be able to move!” a voice snarled, deep and gruff in a way that could only be Galra. 

“If the boss finds out we used the capture device without permission–”

“Just get the Lion offline!”

“Lock him down!”

A blast ripped past Lance’s left wing, making a shock of pain travel down his wing bone. He wobbled, crying out, but managed to lift himself into Blue. Wisps of smoke curled off of his singed feathers. He could hear the fizzling pings of bullets exploding against Blue’s side. His wings knocked against Blue’s interior walls, making him wince and shout as he scrambled his way back up into the cockpit, tossing aside the disk as he did. 

“Come on, girl,” he pleaded, as he inserted his bayard back into its slot and pushed at Blue’s controls without bothering to sit down. “Come on!”

For a long, sickening moment, he thought nothing was going to happen. Blue was going to stay unresponsive. Dark. But then, with a low, echoing rumble, everything lit up blue.

“Yes!” He thrust forward Blue’s controls, feeling her aura rush through him, as heavy as a physical force. The hangar was suddenly illuminated through her eyes, and he twisted her around, searching for the bay doors. Everything was locked up tight, but would the doors be able to withstand a shot from Blue’s tail gun?

The answer was no.

Booms pulsed across the room as the shots made contact with the thick bay doors. It took several moments for them to work, but it was clear when they did – a vacuum opened up, sucking everything untethered in the hangar out into space. With a desperate cry, Lance laughed Blue out into space, too.

There was no way for him to tell where he was. The space around him was relatively clear, with no distinguishing planets or stars. He didn’t even know what system he was in, or if he was near somewhere familiar. He doubted it. The Galra would never go near the planets of the coalition, not when Voltron would retaliate. 

Where did that leave him?

He had no time to figure it out. Instead he engaged all of Blue’s thrusters and took off, weaving out of the way of the beams that burst from the Galra ship looming behind him. He tripped back into his seat as Blue was hit, the Lion tumbling head over tail as he struggled to right her. A small fleet of drones spilled out of the belly of the Galra ship, and despite the stiffness that ran through him, he was surprised by their small numbers.

What the Galra had been shouting before came rushing back to him, like a lightbulb going off in his head.

This ship hadn’t had permission to use the disks, had they? That’s what they’d meant before, when they’d been shouting at one another. Had the attack back at the mineral planets gone wrong, then? Had they been trying to test out the disks on an isolated Lion, without capturing one? It would explain why their hangar bay was so ill-equipped at keeping a Lion inside.

It would also explain why this ship was on its own, without the rest of the fleet that had overwhelmed Voltron before.

Lance activated Blue’s ice ray, sending out a beam of billowing frost ahead of him. It froze the incoming ships, sending debris spiralling off in every direction. He shifted Blue back around and floored it again, taking advantage of the chaos his sudden exit had made. 

Hours felt like they were passing as he pushed Blue as fast as she could go. He felt like he was being chased, could imagine Galra ships right behind him, with Blue in their crosshairs. It made a sweat break out on the back of his neck, made his breathing shallow. 

He flew faster and faster.

Never stopping.

Never wanting to stop.

Eventually Blue’s rumbles broke through the frenzy making his thoughts all muddled. He could sense her through their bond. She wasn’t directing him, wasn’t trying to control his actions, but was rather just a presence at the back of his mind, grounding him. 

He pulled in a deep breath of air, and slowly relaxed his grip on Blue’s controls. Her scanners said that there was nothing nearby, no enemy ships or Galra fleets. He’d strayed into a rocky area, where broken up asteroids and rocks bigger than his Lion drifted past, moving slower than thick honey. He twisted Blue through them, and resolved to get past the ring of debris before slowing down. It took him that long anyway to get his racing heartrate under control.

When he’d breached the other side, and clear space opened up again, he pulled Blue to a stop. “Okay,” he mumbled to himself, as he lifted a trembling hand to his helmet, shaky fingers stumbling over its smooth surface. “Okay, what’s first, Blue? Contact the others.”

Unfortunately, Blue’s communications line only produced silence. He tried for several minutes, calling for his team, but there was no response. He must have been too far away. Galaxies away, maybe. 

As his adrenaline began to ease, pain began to set in. It started slowly, then seemed to hit all at once. His bumps and bruises from before the battle made themselves known, and then the new ones did. The outside of his thigh was aching something fierce and it made him sure that he’d hit it against his chair when he’d fallen back into it. His head felt alright, despite the ache setting in – no bumps or bruises there.

But his wings…

They felt unpleasant. He was hunched forwards in his seat, his wings spread at uncomfortable angles instead of folded up like he usually had them when he sat. When he took off his armour – the plates on his wings, his helmet, his chest and arm plates, leaving just the leg ones on – he found his feathers in compete disarray. 

He had to take a breather before assessing them. He carefully stretched his right one out as far as it would go, testing its limits, trying to identify where his aches were. It seemed okay, if a little stiff. The left, however… it was completely ragged. Feathers on the outer edge were black, the ends burnt away. The feathers were far enough down that he couldn’t really feel much pain from them, but the blast that had burnt the feathers had done damage. 

His head thumped against the back of his seat as he lowered his wings. He knew there was a first aid kit on board, and in a minute, he’d drag himself off to find it. There should be water and food in there, too. Not a lot but enough for now. All the training he’d gotten at the Galaxy Garrison seemed to be paying off – he found himself mechanically compartmentalising what he needed to do, what his next step had to be.

First, heal the aches he could. He needed water, he needed something to eat, and he needed to do whatever first aid he could. Applying ice to his left wing would help, and he thought that there was probably a bruise salve or healing cream in there somewhere that could deal with his bruises. 

After that, he had to find a way to contact the Castle, or the Lions. Anyone from Voltron, actually. And if not them, then someone from the coalition. Getting back to Voltron had to be his number one priority after he’d fixed himself up the best he could. 

He spared a thought about Keith, feeling his heart clench. He hoped that no one else had been hurt during the battle. Keith would probably be worried…

A lump appeared in his throat. He wasn’t sure why. Thinking that he finally had someone who would worry as much as he knew Keith would made him feel unbalanced. He wanted to be with Keith, and didn’t want to have to hide it anymore. Even if the thought of telling others scared the life out of him, that fear was eclipsed by the need he felt for Keith’s company. 

Maybe he was just caught up in his emotions. Maybe he wouldn’t feel the same way tomorrow, or in a week, or whenever he got back to his flock. 

But in that moment, when his mind ran wild, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be back with Keith. He wanted Keith to groom his wings. He wanted Keith to call his wings pretty again, because maybe Keith would mean it.

“Focus, Lance,” he groaned. 

After forcing all thoughts of Keith away, he tucked his wings in, and tried to concentrate. First, the first aid kit. Then find the others. That was the plan.

He just hoped it wouldn’t take long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between updates. I've had a bit of a problem with someone reposting one of my stories without my permission, and it completely drained any energy I had for my longer fics. I'm hoping I can get back into regular uploads now that it's all sorted. On a better note, I believe this story is nearing it's end - there's still quite a few chapters left, though. Hopefully what I have planned is something to look forwards to!


	44. Forty-Four

Lance was pretty sure that the disc wasn’t equipped with a tracking device. He’d spent a while hiding Blue in a rocky meteor field that he’d found after travelling at full speed for a couple of hours. His scanners weren’t picking up any signs of civilisation, so he’d lowered Blue onto the flattest surface he could find and set to fixing his wounds. He’d patched up the worst of them before, but he gave himself a chance to rest now.

The bruise on his thigh was easy to treat. With Blue in stasis mode, he’d taken the time to strip off the rest of his armour. The Altean first aid kit he found had a bunch of strange things in it, and a lot of labels written in Altean, but he figured most of it out after a while. A pale cream soothed his bruises immediately, toning down the colour within minutes. It worked so well he checked himself all over for any hint of a bruise, even the small ones, to treat them.

His feathers were a little more challenging.

For the most part, grooming was his best option. His right wing was less damaged, so he tackled it first, sorting his feathers into order. There was relatively little pain, and only some lingering stiffness that he was able to massage out after some dextrous twisting and turning. The amour that covered his wings had gone a long way in keeping his wings safe, especially the bone. Feathers could regrow, even if it took a long time. Broken bones were less easily fixed.

His left wing was much worse off. His injury site was blackened, his feathers charred and covered in soot. When he tentatively began grooming the feathers, he felt little pinpricks of sensation run up to his wing bone. It was painful in the same way a sore tooth was – insistent and difficult to ignore, and now that he’d noticed it, it only became worse the more he fussed.

But the feathers had to go. He braced his wing against the back of his chair to hold it firm, clenched his teeth, and began to pull the damaged ones out. There were some he was sure he could trim and clean, but many were too damaged to heal, and he soon had a growing collection beside him. He did his best not to think about it and focused entirely on his wing.

When the damaged feathers were removed, he used a small portion of the water he had on board and what looked like disinfectant wipes from the first aid kit to clean the remaining soot off. The pain never dulled, but it made him feel numb, his thoughts scattering. The quicker he worked, the quicker it would be over. 

Then he never had to think about his ugly wings again.

His fingers stilled for a moment, charred feather fluff sticking to his skin. He shook it off and barely repressed an irritated noise when it stuck to his folded legs instead. His wings… they were ugly, except that didn’t feel like the right word. It didn’t feel… strong enough. All the damage they’d taken lately, all the feathers he’d had to pull – they’d taken their toll. When he really focused on his wings, tried to see what was beneath the insistent, stinging ache, he only found weariness. No longer did his wings feel like an extension of his body, like they were a part of him. They just felt like a burden weighing down his shoulders.

He closed his eyes.

And then he got back to grooming.

 

Further travel didn’t ease any of Lance’s worries. He’d given himself a few hours rest after he finished grooming and bandaging his wings, curling up in his pilot’s chair sleep. He was hungry and in need of a shower, but his main priority had to be finding the castle. Finding Keith.

Space felt unusually empty as he flew past the meteor field. There were no stars close by, no planets, no wormholes. Blue’s scanners weren’t detecting any unusual temperature fields or dips in gravity. She wasn’t picking up any communication signals either, not even when he widened her receiving frequencies. Nothing from Voltron, nothing from coalition members, nothing from unknown planets. It was an overabundance of nothingness.

 

The first thing he ran out of was water. His suit could recycle small amounts but once the supplies on Blue ran out, he’d be in deep trouble. There was only one water packet left, and he wasn’t letting himself drink more than a mouthful at a time.

He’d also run out of pain medication. The throb in his wing had yet to ease, and he was getting headaches on and off. Every hour or so he sent out a distress signal, hoping to get even the smallest response, but he was casting his pleas out into empty space. It was as hopelessly frustrating as it was lonely.

Lance couldn’t judge how much time passed without the castle’s systems to designate time. He slept when he felt he needed to, and let Blue go into stasis mode whenever he found somewhere she could rest, which was mostly on large chunks of rocks or fractured meteors. She was suffering without the castle too, her energy waning. 

A few days must have passed before something happened. He figured he couldn’t spend the rest of his life floating through space without something coming along with the intention to kill him, so he just had to wait until then, right? Something was bound to appear before he finished his last water packet. At least, he’d hoped so.

Regardless, he was still surprised when Blue’s scanners started going off. He couldn’t see anything around him, not even stray rocks, and had been on the verge of falling asleep out of sheer boredom when the screens went red. Warnings popped up one after another, and a rattling shudder went through Blue, like she’d been suddenly paralysed.

“What the…?”

Lance let out a cry as a bright light suddenly burst into existence. He threw his arms up, his eyes burning as he tried to shield them from the intensity of the light. Blue lurched forwards, her joints groaning, metal grinding. Ignoring the piercing pain in his head, he squinted at his controls, trying to figure out what was going on. The scanners were picking up a sudden sprawling magnetic field, one that was sucking Blue in like a whirlpool.

He grabbed at her controls, his eyes squeezed shut again, and desperately tried to steer her away from the centre of the magnetic field. The weight of it felt like a physical force, and no matter how hard he pushed at Blue’s controls, she wouldn’t budge. She didn’t have enough force behind her, not after he’d been flying her steadily for days. 

The tension was like a rubber band being pulled and pulled. Lance pushed Blue in one direction, his arms shaking, head ringing, while the magnetic field pulled her in the other. He felt the tension stretch and stretch and stretch, until he’d been wrung out of all his energy, like an engine on its last spluttering breathes. 

“Blue!” he shouted.

A rumbling roar echoed back.

He couldn’t hold on anymore. The pull of the field yanked Blue inwards. His grip on the controls disappeared. A shocking weight settled over him, forcing air out from his lungs in a gasping exhale. He crashed back into his pilot’s chair, crying out as the light surrounding Blue brightened.

And then, impossibly, everything went dark.

 

A faint chiming sound woke Lance. For a fleeting moment, he thought he was back home, lounging on his abuelita’s wooden porch. She lived right by the ocean, and every summer afternoon, a salt-scented breeze would wash through her home, playing with the wind catchers of a small collection of wooden wind chimes she had hanging from the roof. Lance and his siblings and his cousins would all fall asleep on the porch, sprawled against one another, listening to the wooden rods clash and ring.

He could almost feel the way the porch would warm his skin wherever he pressed against it, like it had saved the heat of the sun all day, just for him.

But he wasn’t home in Cuba.

In fact, he wasn’t even in Blue anymore.

The ceiling above him was unfamiliar. His head swam the moment he opened his eyes, and it took a moment for the pain to disappear. When he glanced around, he found himself in an unfamiliar room. Everything was sleek and wooden, made from something pale in colour that was keeping the room cool, almost as if it were stone. The ceiling had a slight curve to it, as did the curving staircase he spotted leading down to the wider floor space beneath the platform he was resting on. He wasn’t on a bed, but it was soft like one – it looked more like a large, round cushion.

He’d never seen anything like it. The room felt familiar in small ways, like it could have been found in a tiny, unknown bookstore in some tiny, unknown corner of the world, of Earth. And yet, there was a quality of unfamiliarity to the air that he knew meant he was nowhere he’d been before. Maybe it was the cool, scentless air, or maybe it was the strange furnishings he spotted, but he had no doubt that he’d landed somewhere new.

Strangely, he didn’t feel threatened, or like he was in danger. When he pushed himself upright on the cushion, he discovered that a lot of the aches in his body had disappeared. Aside from lingering discomfort in his head, the bruises on his thigh were gone, and all the tension in his back had disappeared. He flexed his wings, stretching them out beside him, and almost sighed at how easily they moved. The bandages on his right wing had been replaced, and whoever had placed him down on the cushion had known not to put him on his back, so his wings had been able to rest comfortably against his spine.

It was like waking up from a perfect sleep.

Lance stood. His legs were a little shaky as he made his way over to the circular window on the far wall. When he peered out of it, he saw Blue right outside, sitting as still as a statue. She looked completely unharmed.

“You’ve awoken, little lion,” a gentle voice said.

Lance jumped, his hand flying over his heart. It was like the voice had spoken directly into his mind. “Hello?”

The next time it spoke, it was with a great deal of amusement. “Down here.”

Lance peered over the platform’s railing. The floor beneath was much bigger than the little nook he’d been resting in. Larger cushions had been stylishly placed around the room, along with potted plants that overflowed onto the floor with weeping fern leaves and clusters of pale flowers. Standing in the centre of it all was a–

–was a lion?

“I suppose we do resemble what earthlings call lions,” the creature agreed. 

It looked just like a lion, until he peered at it closer, leaning over the railing a little more. Its face was softer than a normal lion’s, and it had defined, circular markings above its eyes, like eyebrows, which only seemed to make its face all the softer. There was no mane, despite the voice in his head sounding more masculine than feminine, and its tail was a little fluffier than what he expected, the tuft of fur at the end extending further down. When it spoke, its mouth was open, though it wasn’t moving to make syllables. Rather, it was simply open, as if only to give the appearance of normal speech.

“Are you feeling well?” the lion asked. “You’ve been staring for quite some time. Young cub?”

“A talking lion,” Lance croaked.

“Ah.” The lion sat, curling its tail elegantly over its feet. “Is this what humans call shock?”

“Possibly,” Lance forced out, clutching the edge of the railing to keep his balance. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, considering the sorts of aliens he’d seen before. It probably had to do something with how familiar this one looked to something from Earth.

“Nevertheless, are you feeling well?” it asked again. “Shall I come up there, or do you think you can manage the stairs?”

Lance could manage the stairs. He held onto the railing as he made his way down, swallowing his disbelief. Caution took its place. “Who are you?”

The lion watched him, blinking its pretty eyes. From this close, Lance could see that they were an astonishing blue. “I’m afraid that my people’s names do not translate easily into common speech,” the lion told him, dipping its head apologetically. “For now, would you perhaps mind calling me Maël? It’s as close as I can manage to translate directly.”

“Maël,” Lance repeated. 

“Please, have a seat.” Maël stood, standing aside as Lance edged towards one of the cushions. “I must say, I was rather surprised when I heard a paladin of Voltron had stumbled across the entrance to our sanctuary.”

Lance gave the lion a confused, wary look. “I’m not sure what I did.”

“Something extraordinary, I assure you,” Maël said. It bent its head closer, gently pressing its nose to Lance’s wings, ignoring the way he flinched. “You seem less bruised.”

“I feel better.”

“Good, I am relieved to hear that.”

“Where am I?”

Maël hummed, sitting once more. It regarded Lance curiously. “You are where almost none have come before… or at least, not during my time. Our sanctuary is very difficult to discover.”

“Then how did I find it?”

“Partially by coincidence, I believe, but partially by fate, as things usually go.” Maël turned its head towards another window, one that had a view of Blue outside in the near distance. Their silhouettes were uncannily similar. “I suppose only a lion would be able to enter so freely. I am glad you are here, young cub. I fear that you would have perished soon had you not found us.”

Lance lowered his head.

“Do not bow your gaze, young cub.” Maël nudged its nose against Lance’s cheek, just gently. The lion was a lot bigger than Lance expected, its head large enough for Lance to comfortably hug. He wasn’t sure his hands would meet if he were stretch them around the lion’s neck. “Needing help is not a shameful thing, and we are glad to provide it to you. I am sure you have many questions, and I am willing to provide answers, but first I must implore – may we make certain that you are healed before we enter discussions?”

“Why are you being so nice?” Lance frowned. “Not that I don’t appreciate it or anything! It’s a change not to be attacked right off the bat.” He thought about the planet Mirana had come from, and the thugs at trading stations, and the Galra. He’d never felt safe when Voltron travelled to new places. This world, however… “But just… why?”

Maël made another low rumble, glancing out of the window once more. “There’s a certain poetry to it, isn’t there? A great Lion’s paladin finding himself in the land of lions. The ancient Alteans were always fair to us, young cub, and it was in our image they made Voltron.” Maël met Lance’s eyes with a softening expression. “Who are we to trust, if not the people who fly the great Lions?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to point out some amazing art that [taytei](http://taytei.tumblr.com/) on tumblr drew inspired by this fic, which you can see [here](http://taytei.tumblr.com/tagged/i%20spent%20WAY%20too%20long%20on%20this%20tbh) and [here!](http://taytei.tumblr.com/tagged/the%20vastly%20different%20coloring%20styles%20IGNORE%20THEM) It really inspired me to work on this fic more! I can't want to write Keith and Lance finding one another again ❤


	45. Forty-Five

Maël was rather talkative. The lion spoke of its people, of their history and their achievements with fondness and pride. “We work with neighbouring species to build our structures, and share our technologies with them. It’s actually them who helped us bandage you, since your body is so different to ours.”

Lance flexed his wings, glancing at the white bandages. He supposed that lion paws weren’t exactly the most dexterous tools when it came to working with feathers. Or building houses, for that matter. Maël had taken Lance from the house he’d woken up in to show him around the city. The world outside was peaceful, the sun light and warm, and the air had a pleasant smell to it, like jasmine flowers were blooming nearby. 

Other lions peered out of round doorways as they wandered past. Lance couldn’t quite make sense of the order of buildings, or how the city was laid out. There was a sense of order he couldn’t deny, but it seemed as if the houses sprawled out in an endless circle, dotting the horizon like flowers. Everything was lush and green, and nothing felt dirty. He breathed in and his lungs felt cleaner, lighter.

At the centre of the town was a series of intersecting and curving streams built into the ground. They wandered over arched bridges and around flower arrangements full of weeping ferns that dripped pretty white petals across the grass. Lance had never seen anything so beautiful, not even on Earth. He mentioned so to Maël, who grew curious about his home. 

“Tell me, is it much like here?” Maël asked, as they edged under the shade of a nearby tree to observe the city’s buildings. Lions wandered to and fro, moving with grace and quietness, their paws hardly stirring the grassy ground beneath them. 

“Sort of,” Lance said. “Some parts, anyway. My home is hotter though, and we live near the ocean.” He fluffed out his wings a little, letting the slight breeze sift through his feathers. “I used to fly over the sea all the time.”

“I wonder what it would be like to fly,” Maël mused, tail flicking in thought. “I imagine it’s quite delightful.”

Lance nodded. He wasn’t sure how to explain the feeling of flying to someone who couldn’t fly. Once, he remembered asking a friend who was a twin what it was like, but instead of answering, they’d asked him what it was like to not be one. Explaining flying was like that. He’d never not been able to fly, so how could he imagine what it would be like to be wingless? 

“And how are your wings now?”

Lance gave them an experimental flex, but winced at the aching pain he still felt. They were much better, but still sore. “It sort of feels like I’ve pulled a muscle, but not exactly. I don’t know if I can fly.” Truth be told, thinking about his wings – even though they were mostly healed – still produced a sick, churning feeling in his stomach. Maybe it didn’t matter if his wings were healed or not, groomed or not. Maybe he was just sick inside, rotting away where he couldn’t reach.

“Chin up now, young cub,” Maël said, butting its head against Lance’s hair affectionately. “I’m sure there’s something to be done about that.”

Lance wasn’t so sure about that, but he wasn’t going to argue. “I need to contact my friends,” he said. “I’ve been gone for so long…”

“We’ll help you do so,” Maël said. “The technology in your Lion is quite a thing to work with, so I’ve heard. Sending messages out of our little corner of space isn’t the easiest task, but it can be done.” Maël stood and stretched forwards, arching its back languidly. “Until then, there are things for us to do, young cub.”

“There are?”

“Of course.” Maël sent him a coy look and trotted off, ears perked up with interest. “We need to get those wings of yours in working condition again. Come along, then.”

 

Lance wasn’t exactly sure what to make of Maël’s plans. It seemed like Maël had been assigned as his caretaker, since the lion never strayed from his side. 

The first day he was awake, he was taken all around the city. He met the lions working to send a message to Voltron, and others who brought him food. They wandered into the home he’d been given carrying baskets laden full of sweet fruits and fresh flowers in their mouths. Many of the lions wore bangles woven from flowering vines around their ankles, or crowns made from carved wood and flowers around their necks. 

They brought him clothes too, since his were dirty, and he only had his armour to change into. The clothes were soft and silky, and made from no fabric he could identify. There was a shirt that clung to his chest with sleeves made from strips of flowy fabric, ones that were slitted and moved behind him when he walked like they were wings. The pants were just as comfortable too, and had these loops for over the arch of his feet, leaving his toes and ankles exposed. He was encouraged to go barefoot, and since the entire city was blanketed in grass, he did.

He felt very spoilt. The lions treated him gently, and were very friendly. They were curious about Blue and about how she worked, though he wasn’t able to explain much.

“We have respect for those deemed worthy by the Lions of Voltron,” Maël explained, when Lance mentioned his concerns. “And besides, all of my people are quite fond of you, with your fluffy wings and tiny paws.”

Every night when Lance went to sleep, he woke up with his bandages changed. He never saw the other inhabitants of the planet, though their presence was clear. They’d carefully tuck his wings against his back after changing his bandages, and always cleaned up any stray feathers he lost. It was a little strange, at first.

“They’re just shy,” Maël explained, amused by Lance’s hesitance. “They move very quietly, and are especially gentle with others.”

Maël’s relaxed nature about the subject eased Lance’s worries. “You’ll have to thank them for me then,” he said. 

It had been three days of resting before Maël took Lance out into a field behind the house. The grass was soft beneath Lance’s feet, and the breeze felt cool and pleasant on his feathers.

“I want you to race me to the end of this field,” Maël said, as the lion stood beside Lance at one end of the field. “See that tree, the one in the centre of the line? That is the finishing point.”

Lance squinted into the distance. The tree was about five hundred metres away. “You want to race?”

“Yes. But you have to fly.”

Lance tensed. He still hadn’t managed to work out the soreness in his wings. Moving them too fast or too rough made them ache. “I can’t fly,” he protested.

“Of course you can,” Maël said, as it stretched its legs out. “You have wings, don’t you?”

“They’re still...”

“On the count of three, shall we?”

“Wait!”

“Three!” Maël took off like a bullet, streaking through the grass like a blur. Lance gaped at the lion, then spread his wings, beating them several times. He lifted into the air and flew after Maël, following Maël's path over the grass. 

For a moment, everything felt alright.

And then the pain started. Lance let out a cry as he plummeted into the ground, skidding through the grass hard enough to stain his skin green. Pain throbbed through his left wing like a shock of lightning, making him writhe against the ground. It felt like something had snapped.

“Cub!” Maël’s face appeared over him, its circular brows furrowed. It used its head to prop Lance up, one heavy paw against his back. “Steady now. Breathe.”

Lance gasped in a several choked breaths and pushed himself away, turning to hide his face. His cheeks were red from exertion. He clutched at strands of grass as he waited for the pain to ease. It took several long moments before he felt like he could inhale normally again.

“I can’t fly,” he said. “I can’t fly.”

 

Lance hid on his platform for the remainder of the day. No matter how much Maël tried to ply him, he wouldn’t leave his cushion. Eventually Maël settled down beside him, intent on keeping him company. Lance appreciated it, even if he couldn’t word his thanks. 

That evening, a lion came to bring them promising news. Maël headed down the staircase to greet them, and brought the news back up to Lance.

“We’ve managed to make contact with your friends,” the lion said, as it nudged his face, its whiskers tickling him. “They should arrive within a few days. I should warn you however, that time works differently here than it does elsewhere.”

Lance pushed himself upright a little, frowning. “What?”

Maël sat, curling its tail over its feet. “Nothing too drastic, young cub. But time moves a fraction slower here. Your friend have missed you for longer than you’ve missed them. Perhaps a week or so more than you’ve experienced by the time they arrive.”

Worry squirmed in Lance’s stomach. How long had he been away from his friends? From Keith? It had been more than week for him. Days out in the empty expanse of space, and three nights on Maël’s planet.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Lance demanded.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Maël murmured, bowing its head. “I apologise if I’ve upset you, cub. It was never my intention.”

Lance deflated. “I’m not upset.” He wasn’t. He just wanted to see his friends, to see Keith. He didn’t want to think about the time stretching between them. “But thank you for contacting them. For protecting me, too.”

Maël touched his leg with a paw, gentle and teasing. “We are glad to have you. It has been far too long since we as a people saw pieces of the world outside of our own, and your spirit is quite energising.”

Lance offered him a weak smile. 

“But I must insist we work on your flying,” the lion continued, its voice evening out. “I know it’s painful, cub, but the air here will heal you. Already you are sporting less bandages than usual.”

That was true. Lance stretched out his wings, glancing them over. Whoever was healing him during the night was doing an awfully good job at it, even though his feathers were still charred and sparse where he’d been injured. He wondered if that was why he couldn’t fly, if there weren’t enough feathers to catch the wind. 

Sometimes, when a child’s feathers didn’t grow in evenly, they had trouble learning to fly. Feather growth had to be even on each wing to ensure a person could balance themselves in the air. Too little on one side, and the flyer would veer. Righting themselves would be a struggle. It wasn’t painful, though. And Lance’s wings were certainly causing him pain.

“I don’t know if my feathers will grow back,” he admitted, eyes downcast. He was so frustrated with himself that his eyes were starting to go watery. “How can I… I know they’re not the prettiest, but…” 

“You mean, your feathers?” Maël tilted its head to the side. “But they’re beautiful.”

“You haven’t seen Keith’s wings,” Lance said, the words escaping him before he could stop them. “They’re– they’re stunning. They’re this deep onyx colour, and his feathers are really thick…”

“But you do not think yours are just as stunning,” Maël stated. 

Lance shrunk into his shoulders.

Maël let out a sigh. “Plenty to heal still, young cub, but do not doubt my determination.” It hooked a paw around him, jerking him closer. “We still have a few days yet for me to work my magic.”

Lance cracked a small smile. In some ways, Maël reminded him of his older brothers. It felt like it had been years since he’d felt their protective, teasing warmth. 

“Perhaps what you need is simply time to heal,” Maël murmured. “Time to gather your energy, and return your thoughts to yourself, to who you are. This is something, a feeling if you will, that my people know well. After all, we live in our own little pocket of the universe.”

Maybe the lion was right. Could it have been coincidence that he ended up here, in a place connected to Voltron, where he was welcomed like a friend? Or was it something else at work, something just like the Altean magic that made Blue come to life? Maybe he did need the time away from everything else. From the battling, from the thoughts about his wings, the ones that always, always said they weren’t good enough.

“I’ll try to fly again,” he whispered. There was nothing else he could do for the next few days.

At least he knew his team would find him soon, that he’d see Keith soon. Until then, he just had to hope his wings healed. 

He wanted to fly again.


	46. Forty-Six

There were a lot of things to learn about Maël’s home planet. In between bouts of flying therapy, the lion taught Lance about its customs, its people, and its history. He enjoyed eating all the fruits he was given, and had grown fond of the flowers constantly brought into the little house he was staying in. 

Slowly but surely, more of the lions came to greet him. It wasn’t that they were hesitant around him, because they were incredibly friendly and open when Lance introduced himself. It was more like they didn’t want to intrude. Maël’s race were naturally quite polite, and it seemed like healing was something they took very seriously. They wouldn’t risk bothering Lance if they thought it might tire him, Maël had explained.

But Lance liked socialising, and he liked meeting new people. Two days into his therapy with Maël and he met a few of the younger members of the community. The little cubs had big paws that they’d grow into and fluffy scruffs full of baby-fur. They were just as energetic as kittens, and just as cute, too.

“The cubs really like you,” Maël exclaimed, amused, as it lounged on a soft patch of grass beneath a tree. They were in the gardens towards the centre of the community, where rows of overflowing flowerbeds presented a myriad of colourful petals, and thin creeks inlaid in the ground marked walking paths. The cubs loved to push each other into the water, though they were careful around Lance.

“I think they like everyone,” Lance argued, making Maël huff with indignation. Lance just smiled at the lion. He was growing used to talking with the lions, was learning their speech patterns and the way their conversations built themselves. Their words were spoken with a lightness that Lance felt he rarely experienced. 

Trying to teach his inured wing how to work again was not going as well as Lance’s social endeavours. Pain persisted with every beat of his wings, and he couldn’t manage to stay airborne for more than a few moments. His bandages were changed every night by gentle, anonymous hands, and after two days had passed he noticed that new feathers were beginning to sprout in the sparse areas, but it did little for his flying.

Maël was growing increasingly concerned about Lance’s pain levels. “The environment here is conductive to healing,” it explained, as Lance lay spread out on his stomach in their meadow, wings stretched out on either side of him. “Illness is something we rarely encounter, and physical injuries are rarely sustained for longer than a few days. You’re perplexing me, young cub.”

“On the castle, there are healing pods that fix even serious injuries within a few hours,” Lance said, glancing up from his folded arms. “They’ve healed wing injuries before.”

The lion hummed, its eyes roving over Lance’s wings. It prowled around him, restless. When it pressed a careful paw against the edge of Lance’s injured feathers and Lance made no sound of pain, it finally sat. “Your healing is slow, but there are signs of healing nonetheless. Now up you get, we’re going to try again.” 

Lance held back a grumble as he pushed himself up to his knees. He drew his injured wing inwards, running his fingers through the feathers. The ones left around the injury site weren’t terribly damaged, but like the edge of a torn cloth, they frayed. A feather’s stability was defined by the strength of the feathers around it. With such a large gap in his wing, it was no wonder he couldn’t fly.

But even knowing that, he couldn’t be certain about the cause of the pain. On a superficial level, he knew what was causing it. Human wings had nerve endings that bird wings didn’t. The pain was echoing from his feathers down his spine and shoulders, which was what sent him plummeting every time he tried to fly. He didn’t know enough about the intricacies of wing anatomy to know if the real damage was in his wing nerve-endings, or if he’d somehow hurt one of the bones in his back.

Maybe the healing pod could fix him, but the castle wasn’t due to arrive for another few days. Lance wondered if it had the power to heal his injuries, or if it had been too long. Was there even a time limit for those things?

“Focus,” Maël chastised, an amused uptilt in its voice. It gazed out across the field to the tree standing on the other side. “That will remain our target.”

By now, Lance knew the drill. He spread his wings again and gave them a steady flap, anxiously waiting for the second his muscles protested. After a moment, he could move them fast enough to lift off the ground, and with Maël just below him, made an attempt to get to the tree. He managed to fly halfway across the field before his wing gave out, and with a pained cry, he crashed into Maël’s waiting back.

It took several long minutes for him to regain his breath, and for the ringing in his head to go away.

“Believe it or not,” Maël said, voice gentle, as it helped Lance stand, “but you are improving, Lance. You’re getting further, and the strength in your wings is returning.”

“Then why is the pain getting worse?” he asked, his eyelashes wet. 

Maël shook its head. “That is our current problem.”

 

Night fell, turning the sky from a pale blue to a bruised orange, a colour that shone like flames off Blue’s clean edges. Lance watched her from the round window beside his cushion bed, his thoughts wandering. He’d already eaten and bathed, and Maël had bid him farewell for the night. He was alone in his little house. 

Maël had assured him that his condition was improving but Lance was doubtful. Even if he was managing to fly longer distances, the pain wasn’t lessening. When he was airborne he was bargaining away every second, waiting for that agony to strike. He was starting to wonder if maybe the problem was more than just physical. Being away from home and enduring the stress that Voltron brought… he was starting to realise that he’d misplaced all of that stress onto his wings. 

Hating his wings had been something easier to think about than his responsibilities as a pilot of Voltron. It was hard to confront the danger, the deaths, the destruction. Channelling that hate and that trauma onto his image of himself felt almost familiar in comparison. Felt human.

But that didn’t mean it was healthy. 

Sighing, he turned away from the window and threw himself down onto his bed, wings spread. As much as he loved this planet, he missed the castle, and he missed his friends. He missed Keith. By the time they arrived, he would have been on the planet for more than a week. That, combined with his time drifting out in space, totalled at least fourteen days, give or take. How would the planet’s time differences affect the paladins? How long had he been gone for them?

That was just another thing he didn’t want to think about.

 

As much as Lance was learning about Maël and its planet, he hadn’t shared much about his home. The lion asked about it the next evening, after Lance had exhausted himself with flying. They were out in the field and Lance was lying stomach first on the grass once more, letting his aching wings rest. Trembles still ran through them.

“You mentioned your home on Earth,” Maël said, sprawled out beside Lance, “but I wish to hear more of Voltron, if you are willing. News is not often shared to our corner of the universe.” 

Lance took a moment to catch his breath, and then began to tell the lion about Voltron. He started with when he first found Blue, and then meeting the Alteans, and then their struggles with forming Voltron. When he ran out of things to say about Voltron, he starting talking about the paladins, about their skills and the things he admired, the things he missed.

He inevitably started talking about Keith, which had Maël giving him a coy look.

“This Keith is your mate, then?”

Lance flushed, and huffed at the lion. “Not… exactly. Humans don’t have mates, in that way. But he’s important to me, and… and I’m important to him.” Lance allowed himself a small smile.

Maël put a paw on Lance’s back, nudging him ever so slightly. “Look at you, young cub. You are going bright red.”

Lance nudged him back. Maël rolled over so that it could curl up around Lance, nudging his head under one of Lance’s wings to lay under its weight. Lance gave the wing a flap, tapping Maël on the back. The gesture didn’t hurt as much as it would’ve two days ago. “Don’t tease.”

“I apologise, young cub. You are far more at ease when you speak of the people you love,” Maël said. “I enjoy seeing you smile like that.”

“I miss them,” Lance admitted. “You should see their wings, Maël. They’re beautiful.”

“No less than yours, I’m sure.”

Lance gave him a wane smile. “More than mine. Keith’s wings are… they’re breathtaking. His feathers are this deep onyx, and when the light hits them right, they flicker red, like a gemstone shot through with veins of colour. He’s a strong flyer.”

“Perhaps he can help you strengthen your flying when you have been returned home,” the lion suggested. 

“I don’t want him to see me like this,” Lance whispered, turning his eyes away. “My wings are already…”

“Already what, young cub?”

Lance sighed. “Boring. Ugly. They’re such a plain colour, and now they’re so broken…” 

“Broken things can be fixed,” Maël said, nuzzling Lance’s cheek with its nose. “Some things become more beautiful once repaired, you know.”

“Like what?”

“There are some things we purposefully break, like a vase, or a statue, so that when we repair it, we may thread the pieces back together with gold,” Maël explained. “Other times, when one cracks open a stone mined from deep within a mountain, you may find a dazzling crystal inside. Even people are like this, young cub. When we face hardships, and overcome them, we are always stronger for our suffering.”

Lance remained quiet for a while, thinking Maël’s words over. 

“Let me ask you this,” the lion said. “Do you find a flower any less beautiful because its petals have spots? Or because they are striped, or torn at the edges? Do we find them any less valuable because they are not our favourite colour, or because we know they will someday wilt?”

“No,” Lance answered.

“Then why think of yourself that way when you are just as flawed as any flower? As any other living being?”

“I don’t know,” Lance whispered.

“Take my words to heart, young cub,” Maël said. “You are the way you are for a reason, and even if that reason remains unclear to you, your beauty is not lost on others.” A smile came to the lion’s voice. “And I am sure your Keith would agree with me.”

Lance hid his face in his arms but couldn’t stop his ears from burning. “Thanks.”

Maël flicked him with its tail. “Shall we make one more flying attempt?”

 

It was night when the paladins of Voltron arrived. Lance was fast asleep, curled up on his cushion with his wings tucked around him. Nights were peaceful on the lions’ planet, and there was hardly any noise other than the quiet burble of water and the rustling of leaves, so the sudden arrival of the castle in the atmosphere woke Lance.

He pushed himself upright. At first his mind was so placid with sleep that he didn’t register what he was hearing. Only when he looked out of the window and saw the castle slowly descending out of a closing wormhole did he realise that his friends had finally come. Unable to help himself, he peered further out of the window, leaning over the ledge with an intake of breath. It was dark but the moon was luminescent, and once his eyes adjusted, he could see everything without any trouble. The glowing lights of the castle were a welcome sight, but even more so was the single Lion descending ahead of it. 

Moonlight glinted off of Red’s edges. They were heading straight down towards Blue.

“Young cub,” Maël called from the bottom of the stairs.

Lance didn’t need beckoning. He all but flew down the stairs, any lingering traces of sleep leaving his mind in an instant. Maël was there to keep him from stumbling when he reached the landing, but nothing could slow Lance down. He exited the little house ahead of Maël and headed towards where the castle and Red were going to land. Wind blew down from beneath them, playing with the edges of the gauzy clothes given to him, but Lance was so excited to see everyone that he hardly noticed. 

Red reached the ground a moment later. 

Lance’s rabbiting, nervous heart climbed into his throat. “Keith!”


End file.
